Optivus
by P.P.V.V
Summary: AU Welcome to H.W Academy, where manners exist and the nobility reside. But for James Potter that world comes to an end as he is called to war. Can he leave Lily Evans, the person whom he cares for the most? L/J Will he choose love or duty? R/R
1. Optivus

**OPTIVUS By: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K Rowling does. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim, though. Please do not repost elsewhere. This is a standard disclaim._

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AN: Unlike most Altered Universe stories, this one takes a major twist in that it does not follow J.K.R's timeline or setting. In a sense, it still does, but Hogwarts has suddenly changed into a highbred, social society. That said, the language and Housing system has changed drastically.

**Academics at H.W Academy**

LOGICS BRANCH - House Ravenclaw

ARTS AND ATHLETICS BRANCH - House Gryffindor

SOCIAL SCIENCES BRANCH - House Slytherin

HUMANITIES - House Hufflepuff

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**The term **_**Optivus**_** is Latin for "Chosen". One that is picked, a high position in military.  
**

And so begins the sequel.

Onward.

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**Chapter 1**

**- Optivus -**

"Then the meeting is adjourned."

Lily couldn't imagine being happier hearing those words. She was starving: the Dinner Bells had rung quite a while ago but the Elites' meeting had gone for longer than expected. Sir Lucius Malfoy had been quite ruthless – he had covered every detail of the Academy's problems. It seemed that he was tense about something and Lily had expected that Sir Dane Mactavish would stop him, but the elder man remained quiet.

The top concern for the day was that once again, supplies were getting low. A storm was well on its way though, so the Academy could not afford to send anyone out for fear of their safety.

They were also short on Professors. Many had died during an attack to the school and the Academy had not been able to find adequate replacements.

It had gotten so desperate that Sir Lorien had conceded to teach the Philosophy classes and Sir Severus had volunteered to teach Chemistry in the meantime.

Because of that, Lily took over the Books where the Elites would keep the minutes of their meetings and their records of tasks. The numbers were driving her crazy and she wished she could hand the monotonous task back to Severus as soon as possible.

The added responsibilities made it that much harder for the Philologus Elites to function, thus resulting in meetings finishing later because of all the issues they had to deal with.

"You look tired, my Lady." Severus noted, pushing his chair in as everyone began to leave the room.

Lily hooked her hair behind her ear as she stood. "No, I'm not." She said. "I'm just a bit over-loaded." She proceeded to tuck her own chair in. "Sir, don't you think it would be better if we elect new Elites? We're short in numbers."

The Slytherin Elite shrugged. "We were short 2 last year and we managed just fine."

"The Humanities Branch is missing both its representatives – my own Branch has a post to fill too." She protested.

"You should raise the issue next meeting." Severus told her. A small smile, very uncharacteristic for the dark man, touched his lips. "I don't suggest you mention it now – Sir Lucius seems quite agitated."

Lily gathered her books (there were quite a lot of them) and asked, "I've noticed: is it something we should worry about?"

Severus shrugged again. "I do believe it has something to do with a cousin of his, but of the topic, I could not say more." He held the oak door open for her and she slipped through, gratefully.

Together they walked toward the Dining Hall in silence, and though they weren't close, the atmosphere was comfortable. Only a month ago, Lily wouldn't have dreamed of walking next to him, or even holding a long conversation. In fact, he wouldn't have existed in her mind, save for the fact that he was a school icon.

Students cleared a path for them when they passed, and despite the fact that it had been two months since her Pendant acceptance, Lily still felt awkward about it.

She caught sight of the Bell Tower and paused in her steps. "Go ahead." She told Severus. "I will take my dinner later."

Hugging her red cape about her shoulders tightly, she pushed her way to the north-side exit toward the outside hallway. It was cold, and the ground was covered in snow that had been littered with footprints as students walked to and from classes.

In the gardens, a group of children were having a snowball fight, and Lily was glad to see it. She had feared that they would never smile again after their struggles.

It all seemed like a dream now.

About two months ago, H.W. Academy had experienced a night of terror where an outcast group of the Russian Army had decided to invade the school in hopes of turning the King's hand by taking the students within hostage.

They wanted England to enlist its help in Russia's conquest against other nations. The King, however, had signed a treaty that stated that England would remain neutral. To show that it had no desire to either join or provoke Russia's mission, the King had opened his borders to let the Russian Prince in with promises that he would not be harmed.

Some of the Russians, however, had not been happy with that and had tried to reverse the decision through force.

Over 40 people had died that night.

When Lily looked out over the white field, she saw the Russian Prince, Aleksey, and his friends joining in on the snowball fight, laughing with the children. Their presence seemed to put them at ease and it caused her to stop momentarily and watch.

It was cold, but not bitingly so. She hoped that the storm ahead would be the last one of the season so that she could enjoy the outdoors more often.

She felt something warm envelope her shoulders and she jumped, turning around to see sharp blue eyes staring down at her. "What are you thinking of?" The owner of those eyes asked.  
"Sir James! You scared me!" Lily cried, squirming in his grasp. The man had taken off his jacket and draped it around her.

"That wasn't my intention." He said, apologetically. "It's cold out here, my Lady. Don't tell me you are thinking to play in the snow as well."

She laughed a little, grateful for the warmth of his jacket. "I wouldn't mind…" She peered up at him. "Were you following me?"

He pouted. "I was _waiting_ for you." He corrected. "Your meeting finished quite late."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I'd rather not talk about it." She said. "I was on my way to visit the graveyard."

James absently rubbed her shoulder with his big hand. "For Aesalon?"

"To pay my respects." Lily nodded. "I can't help but think I was the cause of his death, after all. If I hadn't been so stubborn to stay behind on that ledge, trying to act all valiant, he probably would still be with us today."

Her companion clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "He would never want you to blame his death on yourself, Lady Lily."

She turned her gaze past the playing children and hugged his overcoat to herself tighter. It smelled like the shampoo he used, and was still warm from his body heat. "I miss him…"

"As do I." James said. "He was a good friend of mine too – he is in a better place now. The suffering he had to endure when he was alive is finally ended."

Lily smiled at the bittersweet memory. Although she had only known Aesalon for a short time, she had become fast friends with him. She remembered his jaggedly-cropped hair and his monotonous tone of speech. His shy smile lingered in her dreams, and often, she would wake, the sadness in her heart causing her to weep.

"Shall I accompany you?" James asked, after a silence.

"Well, since you waited for me for such a long time, you might as well." She allowed, leading the way.

He crossed his arms for warmth against the cold sting in the air and followed her.

Over her shoulder, Lily asked, "Why _did_ you wait for me, anyway?"

"I have a matter I would like to discuss with you."

She stopped and turned around, waiting for him to draw level with her before setting out again, this time, with him by her side.

"Where is Sir Remus?" She asked, after a while.

James stuffed his hands in his pockets. "He's feeling ill of late." He said. "He's holed himself in his room." They picked their way across the snow, their footsteps crunching as they made their way slowly toward the small Cemetery that was located behind the South Wing of H.W. Academy.

"Have you heard anything on Sir Peter's condition?" Lily asked, avoiding a patch of ice by stepping over it.

"Unfortunately, no." James said. "Sirius hasn't sent his periodic message yet. The last one came two weeks ago, but no more have come since then." Anxiety crept into his voice as he spoke and Lily suddenly regretted bringing up the topic. He paused and then demanded, "Was that the topic of your meeting today?"

"No, no!" Lily said. "Sir Lucius just seemed concerned today and I figured that Peter was the reason behind it. He's become more obsessed with every detail of the way things are run in the Academy."

"Of course he's anxious: if there's one thing Sir Lucius does not want, it is to become heir to the throne." James said.

"Heir to the throne?!" Lily repeated. At James' forbidding look at her outburst, she hunched her shoulders apologetically and whispered. "What do you mean?"  
"He's the next closest male in line. His mother is the King's sister, after all. If Peter cannot ascend, it is likely that His Majesty will choose Sir Lucius."

Lily took in that piece of information. She had almost completely forgotten that Lucius had ties with Royalty. Huffing, she picked her way up to the Cemetery Gates. "With ambitions as high as his, why wouldn't he?"

"He might not look like it, but Sir Lucius would never want to take the burdens of a crown." James said, placing his hand on the steel bars and giving it a push inward. The gate swung open with a creak.

Lily made a sound of disbelief. The society in which they lived often baffled her, or managed to somehow surprise her with its complicated relationships. She had nearly been floored with the news that Peter was the King's son.

Apparently, very few people in the Academy knew that fact either.

And, according to James, fewer people knew of Peter's exact whereabouts now.

Without word from Sirius, even those people were left in the dark.

James had fallen into a somber mood at the mention of Peter's health. The boy had been very sick with a failed liver, and he had left the Academy to undergo a surgery that had seemed successful but all of a sudden turned for the worse. If there was one thing Lily did know, it was that the James was fiercely protective of his friends – especially Peter.

She cleared her throat and forced her voice to sound cheerful. "Well, just because you didn't get a message from Sir Sirius doesn't mean that Sir Peter's not okay. I'm sure he's fine, and that their message only got delayed because of this weather."

James relaxed visibly. "I hope so."

The Cemetery was small, lined neatly with rows of gravestones, most of which were partially covered with snow. A few of them had flowers before them, no doubt having been visited by a student of the Academy – probably a fallen friend or sibling.

They found Aesalon's grave easily, as they both frequented it often. This time, as they stood before the stone, it felt a trifle awkward. Lily squatted, the sword at her hip tracing a small streak in the snow by her boots. "Hey," she said, quietly. "I'm sorry I don't have anything to offer you today." She paused, letting her words hang in the air. Behind her, James did not say a word, but she felt his hand on her shoulder again, in a gesture of comfort.

She decided to leave it at that, staying by the grave for as long as she could withstand the cold. Often, she would wonder what it would be like if Aesalon had survived. Surely he'd be eating dinner with her, his gray eyes watching intently everything that happened around them. He'd probably even laugh – a rare display of emotions that he seemed to only portray around her.

But he wasn't ever going to be eating dinner with her again. He was gone.

James stayed rooted to his spot, waiting patiently for her to finish and when she finally made to stand up, he helped her. "Are you all right?" He inquired, when she hesitated for a second more, looking down at the gravestone.

Lily nodded, fighting back tears. "I'm fine…I didn't mean to take so long. You must be frozen."

"Just a little." He admitted. On an afterthought, he added, "I am also hungry. I had been hoping you would accompany me for a meal."

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" She asked, as she turned to leave the Cemetery.

James coughed. "Ah…Madam Hooch insists that we begin practices for the upcoming Festival."

"Practices?" Lily asked.

"It seems she did not forget." James groaned. "I am really not adept in the art of dance."

The Festival. That had been one of the topics discussed at the Elites' Meeting earlier.

She couldn't help but giggle at the look on James' face. It was as if someone had told him that he was going to be executed at any moment.

"I thank you kindly for your concern, Lady Lily." He muttered, in a resigned manner.

"You'll be just fine." Lily assured him. "Most of the women will not be watching your feet, but your face."

He winked. "Does that bother you, that they are attracted to my good looks?" He teased.

She glanced away, toward the side where she saw a group of people standing around, chatting. They were dressed down smartly in their black uniforms, and it seemed as if they had just finished their meals, making their way to their Branch together. "I don't care." She said.

James put his hands up, as was his habit, to comb through his messy hair. "Oh, but it does." He insisted. "I can tell."

Lily made a sound of disgust. "They can look at you all they want." She declared, rounding on him. "It's not as if we're dating or anything."

At that, James grinned. "I _have_ asked you many times, my Lady." He said. "You know you are the object of my admirations."

Damn him and his smooth style of speech. She couldn't stop her blush – any girl would swoon at the way he worded himself.

"I..."

"What are you so afraid of?" He asked. "You are holding yourself back when I am quite certain you don't want to."

"I'm not afraid." She protested. "I'm…can we please stop talking about this?" She had not expected their conversation would take this turn. They had discussed this before, and it had ended awkwardly.

"No, we can't." He said. "Lady Lily, there will be no other for me."

"Sir James…"

"I won't force you." He said. "But I don't want you to keep denying your feelings."

At that, Lily glared at him, stopping in her tracks. "You think you've got it all figured out, do you?" She demanded.

He smirked. "Yes, I certainly do." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. It made her blush harder.

Damn him.

"My apologies, I've upset you again." He said. "I will talk no further on the matter." He began to walk again, as though nothing had happened between them.

Reluctantly, Lily began to walk too, and she felt James take her hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

Unwillingly, she relaxed. There was something about his touch that always made her feel better. It lingered there for a moment before he retracted it.

When they reached the Dining Hall, it had cleared out substantially. Some heads turned their way when they crossed over to a table together, but neither of them noticed as they were both intent on getting some food. The smell of it was making Lily's stomach growl eagerly.

James wasted no time in ordering for them when a waiter passed by. He ordered two glasses of wine as well, before turning to her again. "So, what say you, Lady Lily?" He asked. "Do you have time enough on your schedule to practice with me?"

Lily drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm very busy this week." She told him. At his disappointed look, she hurriedly said, "But I think I can squeeze in a little time for practice before Lights Out every day."

"That would be wonderful." He said. "I don't want us to disgrace ourselves come the day of performance."

The drinks came then, and he lifted his glass to her in a small toast before drinking it.

She copied the motion. The red wine tasted strong and bitter, a taste that she had not yet gotten accustomed to. "Don't think I'm doing it to dance nicely." She said. "I'm only doing it because it will encourage the other students to join in. Ever since the infiltration they've all been down and out.

"It doesn't help that the King's Army is still around. It makes the students feel as though there is still a threat to be afraid of."

James put down his wine glass, turning it around with his thumb and forefinger. Over the course of the two months, his suspicions had risen, but he had not been able to research into the matter thoroughly. He didn't want to brood over it, instead saying, "Yes, well, the Festival should put smiles back on their faces. And hopefully it won't be because of my inability to dance."

Lily rolled her eyes at him for the second time that night. "You know, you're really vain." She told him.

He lifted his glass again, tipping it to her. "Why thank you, my Lady. Coming from you, I will take that as a compliment."

They fell into amiable talk then, over the meals when they arrived, about the weather, their subjects and of course, the way that they had suddenly become busier than normal.

James informed Lily that since it was his last year, he planned to join the King's Army when he graduated. His original plan to become a Philologus had failed, and although he was upset about it, he found that it was better that way. "It's not so much that I don't want to become a Philologus," he thought to explain, "but it's more the fact that I don't suppose I'll make an efficient one. During the attack on the Academy, I realized I'm better suited for a position in defending the Crown."

"But that's such a dangerous job." Lily pointed out.

"Being a Philologus is just as dangerous." He said. "They're always objects of assassination or ransom."

Well, that was comforting.

"So, you want to be a General, then?" She asked.

"Perhaps." Was the reply. "Or a direct guard to His Majesty that he picks by hand."

Lily snapped her fingers. "Sir Lucius mentioned that to me the other day. He used a term…" she trailed off as she dug into her memory for the word. "…Optivus?"

James nodded. "Only a select few may stand with His Majesty at all times. They would do anything to protect the King and his family, even if it meant giving their lives."

Lily saw his shoulders sag as he spoke and she knew that he had started to dwell on the past. He had been tortured and abused during the infiltration of the school, as the Russians had tried to pry information that only he seemed to have. In the end, he had begged for death at the mere thought of betraying the King.

He had never forgiven himself.

"If this is because of what happened two months ago, Sir James, then you don't have to prove anything to anyone: you are just a boy. No one could have expected you to go through such pain." Lily said.

James couldn't help but glare at her. "I'm not a _boy_. I'm a man grown."

"Well, either way, you didn't give those men what they wanted. You didn't betray anyone!"

"It's the thought that counts." He said, miserably.

Lily pursed her lips. She wasn't about to argue any further, because she knew that James could be stubborn when he wanted to be. Instead, she finished off her meal and got to her feet. "I'm tired." She announced. "I'm going to bed – it's been a long day."

He got to his feet too. "I'll walk you." He offered.

She held out her hand to decline. "No, it's okay. I'll be fine on my own. Thank you."

Reluctantly, he sat back down and she offered him a smile. "We'll have our first practice tomorrow night, sir."

"Good night." James said, nodding once.

"Good night." She responded, gathering her books again and hugging them to her chest.

As they talked, they were unaware that a few tables away, a figure watched them interestedly.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Remus was sick with a fever, but his fiancée sat by his side, a cold towel in her hand. This she pressed to his forehead, causing the man to stir.

"…My Lady…?"

"Sir Remus, you have a visitor." She whispered, pushing a golden lock aside on his pillow.

James peeked in, then, entering cautiously. "How is he?"

"He's still delirious." Nymphadora sighed, seeing that Remus had not been able to decipher her message at all. He had resumed closing his eyes because he was not able to fight off the lull of sleep for very long.

Disappointed, James bowed and left the room again.

He hoped that Remus would get better – it seemed as though all his friends were sick. He made his way down the Men's Dormitory Staircase when he saw that the lights in the Common Room were still on.

When he went to turn them off, he was surprised to see Lily fast asleep at the table, her books and quills neatly stacked beside her. She must have been so exhausted. It was a known fact that the Elites had a lot of work to do, and he knew that it could take its toll. She looked beautiful – and deeply asleep – and he didn't want to wake her up. At the same time, he knew that she would have back pain from the crooked position she had placed herself in.

Ever the gentleman, he moved toward her and shook her shoulder. "Lady Lily, you should go upstairs." He whispered, gently. When she didn't rouse, he tried again, and this time she let out a muffled groan, shifting slightly in her sleep.

Well, there was only one thing left to do. Putting one of her arms around his neck for support, James bent down and scooped her up into his arms, holding her securely under her legs so that she wouldn't fall.

He was surprised that she did not wake, rather, she buried her face into the hollow of his neck. It must be admitted that he paused momentarily, to savor the feeling, but then he began to walk up the stairs to her bedroom.

She may have been beautiful, but she was also heavy.

It took him a while to get the door open because his hands were occupied, but when he finally did, he gently deposited her on her bed, removing her shoes as he did so.

Lily still did not wake, rolling over onto her side. James unbuckled the sword at her waist so that she could be more comfortable and unhooked her cape so that she wouldn't tangle herself in it, placed those on her chair by her desk, and left the room.

Unaware of any of his ministering, Lily slept on, lost in her dreams.

**To Be Continued…**

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AN: Thanks to everyone for patiently waiting for the sequel to Philologus! For those of you who did not read Philologus, I hope this still made sense. I hope everyone will enjoy this story just as much, and as always, I'd love to hear what you think so far. Please be so kind as to leave me a review before you exit the window!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	2. Jealousy

**OPTIVUS by P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies._

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AN: Wow, I'm glad to see that so many people are interested in this story. I am really grateful for all the comments and reviews that people left me – honestly, you guys rock! Here it is, then, the second chapter.

Onward.

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**_Previously:_**

_James was surprised to see Lily fast asleep at the table, her books and quills neatly stacked beside her. She looked beautiful – and deeply asleep – and he didn't want to wake her up. At the same time, he knew that she would have back pain from the crooked position she had placed herself in._

_Ever the gentleman he bent down and scooped her up into his arms, holding her securely under her legs so that she wouldn't fall._

_He was surprised that she did not wake, rather, she buried her face into the hollow of his neck. It must be admitted that he paused momentarily, to savor the feeling, but then he began to walk up the stairs to her bedroom._

_It took him a while to get the door open because his hands were occupied, but when he finally did, he gently deposited her on her bed, removing her shoes as he did so._

_Lily still did not wake, rolling over onto her side. James unbuckled the sword at her waist so that she could be more comfortable and unhooked her cape so that she wouldn't tangle herself in it, placed those on her chair by her desk, and left the room._

_Unaware of any of his ministering, Lily slept on, lost in her dreams._

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**Chapter 2**

**Jealousy –**

Like every morning, Lily was the third to arrive on the balcony where the Elites sat in the Auditorium. Sir Severus and Sir Dane were already seated in their respective chairs.

Sir Lucius came soon after. "Sir Dane, where is Sir Lorien?" He demanded, when he saw one of the Ravenclaw chairs unoccupied.

Sir Dane swept his gaze toward the Slytherin Elite. "He has fallen ill. He will not be attending the Assembly, nor will he be attending classes."

Lily frowned and turned in her seat. "There are a lot of students falling sick." She noted.

"This is bad," Sir Severus agreed, cracking open one of his books on his lap, "we've got much to do and with one less in numbers, we will be struggling to keep on schedule again."

He was right, of course, and the other Elites exchanged glances. "I will take half of his duties," Dane announced, fingering his blue cape thoughtfully. "Lady Lily, do you suppose…?"

Lily forced a smile onto her face and was about to respond when Sir Lucius interrupted, "I will take the other half. I shan't want to burden the Lady any more than she is."

"I can manage." Lily said, but Lucius had already seated himself next to Severus, leaving a seat between them in answer to her feeble protest.

It took a while for the auditorium to fill up and when the last person had taken their seat, only then did the Headmaster step onto the stage.

Master Edmund, a man who seemed to have aged since the attack on the school, made his way to the center before stopping and looking up at the balcony.

Roll call, prayers and hymns went by rather quickly that morning. When it was over, Dane stood first, and the other Elites got to their feet as well, mirroring the Ravenclaw Elite's salute to the Headmaster. The crowd below followed the Elites' example and only when they had hailed the Headmaster and taken their seats again did the man begin to speak.

"It is a cold morning," He said, in his deep voice, "but the cold weather will not last forever. Nor will the cold atmosphere of studies. As you well know, there is an upcoming Festival. In honor of Sir Albus, we will continue with this Tradition. I encourage everyone to enjoy as much as possible: we will, of course, be awarding the different Branches a fair amount of House Points depending on their participation."

Here, he paused, and the students gladly took up his offer for chatter. It lasted for a little while before Master Edmund put out his hands for silence. "I will let the council elaborate."

Narcissa made her way up onto the stage. She had not changed since the first day Lily had laid eyes on her. She still looked lovely, her blond hair seemed to glow under the auditorium's lighting. Unlike Celena, though, Narcissa was not quite as charming, nor was she as amiable. She waited for everyone's attention to be turned on her before she began speaking. "Sir Oliver has come down with a cough so I will carry out the announcements alone."

Lily glanced at the other Elites, glad her earlier observation was proven.

"The Festival will take place in approximately three weeks in Hogsmeade Village." She announced. "We will have our usual festivities, but each House is asked to represent itself somehow during the Festival - be it a presentation or what have you.

"On that day, students are expected to behave accordingly in the fashion of young Ladies and Gentlemen. Curfew will be extended an hour later than normal, so be sure to be within your dorms by Lights Out. All students caught outside the gates after the Last Bell will be severely punished and disgraced."

There was slight chatter after her last sentence and she cleared her throat. "If there are any further questions, feel free to ask the council members. The Elites are welcome to join us on that day, if they so desire."

So, they were given a choice, Lily was impressed. They must have known that the Elites were completely up to their neck in work, and that it was work that had to be done no matter what the circumstances.

Usually, for Academy Affairs, the attendance of the Elites was a requirement: this was so that the other students would feel encouraged as they were the symbols of the school.

The announcements continued and Lily lost track of whatever it was that Narcissa was saying because she leaned against the balcony's railing and caught sight of James down below, talking to someone.

It made her sit up straighter.

That someone was another girl.

For some reason or another, Lily felt a bolt of jealousy run through her. It wasn't so much that he was talking with her, but that he had his arm draped around the back of the girl's chair and his head was quite close to her ear and they were laughing.

Confused with the sudden emotion, she sat back. What gave her the right to get jealous? Hadn't she told him just yesterday that she wasn't interested in dating him? He was bound to get over her – he couldn't very well dote on her forever.

That realization seemed to burn a hole through her and she got up from her seat.

"Where are you going?" Dane asked, looking up at her.

"The washroom." She answered, stiffly.

He looked like he wanted to say something but she never gave him the chance, turning and stalking out of the room, her red cape flapping behind her.

Lily didn't go to the washroom though. Instead, she found herself wandering to the Front Hall, a section of the school that had been closed off due to needed repairs. The Third Floor Corridor had caved in a while back and its reconstruction was slow-going.

Because of the collapse, Aesalon had died.

Feeling tears prick at her eyes, she moved on: no, she would not allow herself to dwell on the past. Everyone told her that doing so would only bring her despair, and she didn't want that.

Aesalon wouldn't want that.

Because the students were in the Assembly, the school hallways were clear, and the sound of her shoes clacked away unhindered, against the sturdy, solid floors. The King's Army stood at attention by the walls, unmoving, like statues. It was rather eerie having their eyes trained on her every move.

Lily's mind wandered back to James.

Despite all her denials, she couldn't lie to herself – he had caught her fancy. It had started the day he had taken her on an adventure through the school during a storm, and she had finally been able to vent her frustrations with him. What made her comfortable around him was that he always listened, no matter what.

Still, something held her back in that she didn't want to commit to him, even though James had openly confessed to her. In truth, she was afraid: after what had happened to her parents, she couldn't bear the thought that that might happen to her too.

Her parents had been forced to divorce due to the fact that her mother was not of Noble kin. Sir Eric, her father, had left them alone in France after that, and had extricated himself from their lives. Only when her mother had fallen ill and had been hospitalized had Sir Eric decided to take care of Lily again. Even then, he stuck her in a boarding school for the Noblemen and he had disappeared from her life once more.

No, Lily didn't want her heart to be broken again, and she wasn't willing to surrender it to James just yet.

Her wanderings took her to the library, where Madam Pince looked up briefly upon her entry. The Librarian did not ask why Lily was not at the Morning Assembly, rather, she ducked her head back to her book and continued reading.

Taking the opportunity, Lily made her way toward the restricted section where no one was allowed to enter unless given special permission. The Elites, of course, were exempted from that rule so she took the liberty to let herself in.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw something move in the shadows at the far end of the bookshelves to her right. When she looked closer, she realized that it was a person and before she could so much as make a sound, the person moved forward urgently so that she could see his face.

It was Pavel Mihailouik – one of the Russian students that had transferred to their Academy.

His earnest gaze and finger to his lips made her racing heart slow down. "You nearly scared me to death!" She hissed, coming over to him.

He smiled apologetically and she demanded, "What are you doing back here? Students aren't allowed - "

"-I know." He softly cut in. "I fell asleep in the library last night, and when Madam Pince came in this morning, I panicked and rushed in here!"

Lily thought it was cute the way he nervously peeked out from behind the bookshelf.

"You missed Morning Assembly." She pointed out, when he ducked back again.

He tilted his head to the side. "Forgive me for taking the liberty, but may I ask why _you_ are not present in the Assembly either?"  
Lily paused and quickly answered, "I came to get a book for this morning's class." She could feel her ears heating with the lie, and she knew that Pavel did not believe her. She couldn't very well tell him that the sight of James with someone else had made her jealous.

Pavel did not comment on that, rather, he peeked out from the bookshelf again. "His Highness fell ill." He said, referring to the Russian Prince and thankfully changing the topic. "He must have caught a cold from the outdoors yesterday."

"A lot of people are falling sick." Lily told him. "It's not a surprise with the weather, but I'll have to take a note down that the flu seems to be rampant within the school grounds."

He sighed, letting his head thump back against one of the shelves. Particles of dust scattered around him when he did so and he absently brushed the pieces off of his brown uniform. "How am I going to get out of here without the Madam noticing me?"

Lily glanced around the stack of books they were hiding behind. "It's not like you did anything bad." She pointed out. "Hiding in here makes you seem more like a criminal, doesn't it?"

He huffed in dismay. "I'd rather not get a lecture." He said, turning pleading eyes to her.

She found his stare to be adorable. "I'll help you, then." She offered, knowing that that was what he had been thinking. "But you've got to be quick and sneak by or else all my effort will be put to waste and I'll have to scold you as well because I'm an Elite."

Satisfied with the exchange, he nodded in agreement.

So, taking a deep breath, Lily stepped back into the aisle and quickly crossed over to the partition that separated the restricted section from the regular books, letting herself through again. She strode toward Madam Pince, purposefully, clearing her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," Lily said, "but I was wondering if you had any more copies of **H.W Academy: A History**?" That was the first book that came to her head and she desperately searched her brain for an excuse as to why she would need it.

Madam Pince put down her book and looked over her glasses up at the Gryffindor Elite. "I have three copies." Was the response.

Lily looked back at the restricted section and saw Pavel peeking out, hopefully. "Well," she declared, "I thought there would be at least one in the restricted section. I had hoped that it could easily be found there, but I guess I have to search through the stacks."

The librarian didn't seem impressed by Lily's decision. The redhead glared at Pavel before looking back at Madam Pince and smiling sweetly. "Do you happen to know just how many copies of the books are in the other libraries?"

Madam Pince creased her forehead suspiciously. "Why are you looking for that book in particular?"

Lily quickly thought of a lie. "Professor Binns is in need of a few copies because they're doing an in-class project and he needs copies that don't have any notes written inside them. You know how it is, with students writing things in the margins of their texts." She chanced another quick peek at Pavel and was relieved to see that he had managed to slip through the partition and was now hiding behind another row of books closer to the exit. She turned her smile back to Madam Pince and asked, "So, do you know how many copies are in the other libraries, for reference? He kind of needs it for this afternoon's lecture."

This time, the Librarian closed the book she was reading and stood. "I could try to find out for you, if you would just wait here."

"I'd appreciate it, thanks." Lily said, and with that, the woman got up and made her way to the office where all the catalogues for the book lists were stacked neatly in filing cabinets. As soon as she was out of sight, Pavel shot up and made a dash for the exit, managing to make it out just in time as Madam Pince came back.

"There are another four volumes in the East Wing Library, and two more in the South Wing." She reported. "Did you want to sign out those that I have here?"

Knowing that it would be suspicious of she did not do just that, Lily fervently nodded. "Thank you so much, Madam!" she said. "I'm sure Professor Binns will appreciate it."

_How did I get myself into this?_ Lily thought as the Madam moved toward a stack of books toward the back of the room, saying, "Professor Binns usually checks his books out a week before lessons begin. I wonder if he forgot this time?"

"Uh…yes, that must be it." Lily said. "I don't suppose it will happen again."

At that, Madam Pince actually laughed. "I won't be surprised if it does: that man's memory is fading with his age, and believe you me, he's quite old – but don't tell him I told you that." She stopped by a shelf and began to run her finger down the spines in search of the aforementioned books and proceeded to hand them to Lily when she found them.

Lily promised she would have them back on the Library shelves within the week and made to exit just as the Bell's Chimes began to gong – it was time for breakfast. Actually, for the Elites, it meant it was time for their morning classes.

Pavel was right outside, looking about anxiously, when she came out of the Library. He brightened upon seeing her, dimples creasing when he grinned and she felt herself blush. He was a very handsome creature in his own way. While he didn't have the rugged, dark appeal that Sirius possessed, or the cool composed perfection that James did, he had a unique look to him.

He had a head full of dark blond hair and possessed blue eyes that she swore could see the truth in everything. His English was impressive despite the fact that he had only been in H.W.Academy for less than three months. Everything about him made Lily's insides squirm with anticipation.

He spoke, making her stomach flip eagerly. "Lady Lily, I apologize for the complications you had to undergo on my behalf."

Lily tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear, balancing the three books she held in her right hand. "That's okay. But don't expect me to do that every day for you." She teased.

His dimples were shown again as he smiled. "And what do you plan to do with those books?" he asked.

She glanced down at the textbooks as if noticing them for the first time. "You're right," she said, "Madam Pince will ask after them and if Professor Binns doesn't get them, I will have a lot of explaining to do."

"I'm really sorry." Pavel said again. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Lily shook her head. "I'll think of something." She said, cheerfully. "In the meantime, sir, I have to go to class or else Professor McGonogall won't be happy with me either." She gave him a little wave and he bowed smartly, watching her walk away.

"Lady Lily, wait!" he called, jogging up to her. She gave him a questioning look and he said, "I…uh…do you…will you take tea with me later?" he asked, hopefully.

She took a moment to understand what he was asking – it had been quite some time since anyone had asked her to take tea with them, especially since becoming an Elite.

Asking an Elite to tea was like asking Royalty to join you for dinner.

Not that Lily thought herself above others: it was just a general rule that Elites were of a different class than the other noblemen and women.

And that was precisely why Lily hesitated. Sir Lucius had made it very clear to her that the Elites did not grant special audiences with anyone for two main reasons. One, because of the amount of work that the Elites were expected to do, their time was very limited to spare. The second, if they began doing so, they would have to accommodate the whole school and there wasn't enough of them to go around.

Lily discovered very early that the job of an Elite was a very difficult and a very lonely one – and unfortunately for her, she could not hand it off to just anyone.

The Elites were chosen from the top two students in every Branch. Each year, an examination had to be passed in order to gain the position, however, if the Branch's students were unable to meet the requirements of the examination, the post would be unfilled until the following year.

There had been 8 Elites – that is, until three of them died in the unfortunate incident when their institution had been infiltrated and held as hostages. Now, they were down to five, and with seats unfilled, they were having a hard time keeping up.

The Elites were practically worshipped to the point that everyone stayed respectfully out of their way and showed them the utmost respect. So, it was a little bit of a shock to have someone with whom she was not so familiar with to ask her to tea.

How she hated the rules of the Noble Houses!

Endeavoring to put a smile on her face, Lily repeated the action of tucking her hair behind her ear as she thought. It had only been a few months since she was introduced to the Academy anyway, and she had defied the rules before. Surely it wouldn't hurt to do so one last time, would it?

"I'd love to."

Pavel seemed to be expecting a negative response because a look of confusion passed over his features before he registered her answer. A special smile took its place though and he calmly took her hand and raised it to his lips, leaving a kiss there. "I'll meet you in front of the Slytherin Tower, then?"

Lily felt a shiver run down her arm and she found she could not quite pull her hand away from his. "I'll be there." She managed to say. It sounded more like a squeak in her ears, but he didn't seem to mind.

"You'd best get to class, then." The man said. "I'm looking forward to it. Good day."

Lily watched as he turned toward the Dining Hall.

"Lady, you'll be late if you stand there all day." Lucius' voice came from her right shoulder and she jumped, guiltily. "And might I remark that that was one long trip to the washroom."

She had a lot of explaining to do.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The hospital ward was off in its own corner of the Academy, located on the first floor for easy access and in the East Wing. It was here that James decided to spend his breakfast hour, within the white-washed walls and shadowed over-hangings.

He had come here often in the past, not because he himself was sick, but because Peter Pettigrew, one of his dearest friends, had frequently visited the place.

But Peter was gone now. He had been sent away, and of his current condition, James did not know.

It was eerily quiet, and his footsteps could be heard clacking away at the floor as he crossed the room to a bed where another familiar friend lay.

This time, his friend was no longer delirious and he took the opportunity to sit down next to his bed. "A good morning to you, sir!" He greeted Remus, who looked much better than he had the night before. "I see they've moved you to the Ward. Your fever must have been really high."

"I feel better now, thank you." Remus said. "As much as I hate this wretched room, I have to admit that it is very effective."

"It's the people working in it that are effective." A lady's voice interrupted with fond sternness. "The room in itself is nothing to be given credit for."

At that, Remus chuckled. "I apologize, my Lady. I thank you for your pains."

Madam Pomfrey had just entered, a round, robust woman nearing her late 30s. She was garbed all in white, including her soft-shoes which would explain how James had not even been aware of her presence.

She was the main Nurse at the Academy, and everyone knew that her sharp tone was not always out of anger. Still, it could pause some people in their steps.

Remus took it all into stride as she bustled around him, checking his temperature and making sure that he was supplied a meal before leaving to check on another patient.

James watched him pick at his porridge before saying, "You know, you must learn to control that flippant tongue of yours. It will be the death of you, someday."

His friend merely grinned. "At least I will go with some humor." He said, tapping his spoon against the bowl he held. "In any case, that's not what you're here for, is it?"

Scowling, James resisted the urge throw a punch at his friend's leg. "I can't drop in to visit a sick patient?"

"Why, thank you for caring." Remus said, smoothly. "With luck, I should be out of here by tomorrow." He proceeded to eat his food and the two sat side by side in silence until he had finished.

Remus broke the silence by saying, "I'm worried about them, too, James." The former Elite knew he was referring to Sirius and Peter. "And I'm sure they remember that today is your birthday."

James should have known that Remus wouldn't forget either. This was the first time his birthday would not be celebrated with his friends by his side. With Peter and Sirius gone, and Remus in the hospital, his special day was quite dull. In the past, they had always had a feast in the Chamber of Secrets. He nodded his appreciation and Remus asked, "Did you make a wish?"

"My wish would only be for Peter's recovery and their safe return when the time comes." James said, automatically. "The Marauders are incomplete without them."

"The Marauders will not last forever." Remus said, quietly finishing off his meal. "We will all have to go our separate ways."

"The Marauders will be the Marauders until death." James argued. "Even if time moves forward, and we go separate ways, we will still be friends."

Remus chuckled again, placing the now empty bowl down on the dresser next to his bed. It held a bouquet of dried flowers, a few of its petals littering the white wood, the strong red color looking like blood. "You sound like a youngster for someone who is a man grown."

This time, James did punch him, hitting him softly on the shoulder for the banter.

They continued their conversation for a long while. It felt good to relive memories and to speak freely about anything and everything. With his friends, there were no secrets he was afraid to keep, and he should have known that Remus could see right through him.

"The Lady Lily seems to have taken an interest in you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I hear you fancy her too."

Feigning innocence, James asked, "Whoever could have told you that?"

Remus smirked. "Oh, come now, James! You make a terrible liar – we've all seen it: the minute she walks into the room, you can't take your eyes off her."

Knowing that his blush was a dead giveaway, James let his shoulders slump in defeat. "I don't know why she does not reciprocate my feelings. I know she fancies me but…" He sighed, frustrated. "Am I not charming enough?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Sir, these things take time. I'm of the mind that Lady Lily will be a hard one to win over: she's got a will of her own, as stubborn as a…well…" he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence and say something that might hurt any feelings.

"Yes, she certainly is stubborn." James agreed. "Now that she has become a Philologus Elite, it is near impossible to speak with her. I had the chance to speak with her at dinner last night, though."

The Morning Bells rang just then, signaling the end of the breakfast period and the beginning of classes for those who were not Elites. It also signaled the end of James' visit and he stood, reluctantly. "I'll consider what you said." He clapped his friend on his shoulder and promised he'd swing by later that night to check up on him.

Remus lay back down on his pillows. "We'll celebrate when I'm fully recovered." He promised, and James hurried away, before Madam Pomfrey could chase him out.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The day passed slowly and James wished he could speed it up. Nothing of event happened and worst of all, there was still no news from Sirius' end about Peter's wellbeing. He was starting to worry that something had happened to the two.

He became hopeful when by tea time, the Headmaster summoned him to his office.

Master Edmund was a tall man who held himself with an air of authority. He had dark eyes that reminded James of a hawk's; penetrating and never missing anything. Despite his calculating gaze, he was a jovial fellow, who did his best to live up to the previous Headmaster.

"Professor." James stood in the doorway to his office, announcing his presence and waiting to be invited in. The room, as he remembered it, had not changed at all. It was built in a somewhat circular manner, rows of books looking down at him from their shelves on the walls.

"Sir James, pray be seated." The offer was extended.

James did as he was told, sitting down in the middle-most chair that faced the Headmaster's oak desk.

"Would you like some wine?" Edmund offered, and James politely held his hand up to decline. Seemingly disappointed, the former shrugged. "Might I wish you congratulations on your birthday?"

"Thank you, sir." James said. He couldn't help the note of anxiety in his voice, and Master Edmund must have heard it because he wasted no more time in making small talk. "We've received news from the Palace."

At that, James sat up straighter. "Peter…?"

Edmund shook his head. "No…the King writes with explicit instruction that his Treaty be returned to him."

Perplexed, James repeated, "His Treaty?" He gripped his armrests. "Does His Grace mean to go to war with Russia after all?"

"I don't know, my boy." The man said, as he poured two glasses of wine despite the fact that James had not wished to drink any. "He never thought to explain it to me in his letter. It merely states that in the time of emergency, he thinks it best to keep the Treaty in the Castle where it will be safe. He fears that it will be used as a device that against the Academy again." He held out a glass to James, who accepted it without a second thought.

"But his army is here – we're protected! Why let it leave the Palace in the first place if he thought it safer there?"

It didn't make any sense.

Master Edmund took a sip of his wine and stared out the window, where the sun had already set and the stars had begun to take their places in the sky. "I can only guess that is it because Sir Albus no longer heads this institute, and until he is found, we cannot risk the Treaty being in the Academy."

James demanded, "Have we made any progress in finding where he is being held?"

"I've not heard any news from the Council." Edmund reported. "We will have to be a little more patient."

James threw back his glass of wine in one swallow, angrily.

Waiting. That's all he ever did. He was tired of waiting. But if it was the King's orders, he had no choice but to comply. He had, after all, made a promise in service to the Crown. His mind worked, snagging on that empty air that he had mulled over for months. Somehow, he could not piece the puzzle together completely. Something was missing…something was _wrong_…

He knew that Master Edmund had called on him specifically because he was always able to analyze situations and come to the right conclusion. In this though, he was having a hard time solving the riddle. There had to be something more to that request than met the eye. "Professor, I don't have an answer." He said, at last. "I need time to think."

Edmund nodded. "Very well. I would like your opinion on the matter before I speak with Sir Lucius. More wine?"

"No, thank you." James said, standing up and straightening his uniform's shirt. "If you'll excuse me."

Without waiting for a response, he left, thoughts swirling in his mind's eye. He hadn't expected the King to make such a request. He didn't see the rationale behind it at all.

All thoughts about the problem flew out of his head as he saw a certain red head making her way in his direction, hugging textbooks to her chest as she ran. She looked up in time to avoid a collision with him and he felt a smile well from within him as her green eyes locked with his.

"Lady Lily!"

"Oh…Sir James…" she fumbled momentarily with her burdens before saying, "I'm sorry, I'm really busy right now…"

"Do you need help?" He asked.

"No. No, I'm fine." She answered.

"Ah, I see." He took a deep breath and said, "Where shall we meet for practice tonight?"

At that, her face fell. "Oh…um…I'm really sorry...I spent more than an hour with Pavel earlier and..." She cast him a guilty look. "I lost track of time so now I have a lot to catch up on. Maybe we can practice tomorrow night instead?"

He forced his smile to stay on his face. "Yes, I understand."

Lily shifted the books to her left hand. "I'm really sorry…" she said again.

He raised his hand. "That's quite all right." He heard himself saying. She dipped her head gratefully before making her way back down the hall. He found he could not move from his spot as he watched her retreating figure.

This year it hadn't been a very happy birthday at all.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN:** I hope you enjoyed this chapter too and I really hope that you will leave me your thoughts in a review. It really encourages me to write and I would really appreciate it if you did!

That said, thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	3. A Question of Trust

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies…_

* * *

AN: Sorry for the delay. Thank you, everyone for the reviews: you've spurred my near-to-dead imagination (yeah, University can do that to you…) In any case, please enjoy this next installment. Poor James, with nobody to celebrate his birthday. Oh well, such is the way!

Onward.

* * *

_Previously:_

_All thoughts about the King's request to return the Treaty to the palace flew out of James' head as he saw a certain red head making her way in his direction. She looked up in time to avoid a collision with him and he felt a smile well from within him as her green eyes locked with his._

_"Lady Lily!"_

_"Oh…Sir James…um…I'm really sorry...I spent more than an hour with Pavel earlier and..." She cast him a guilty look. "I lost track of time so now I have a lot to catch up on. Maybe we can practice tomorrow night instead?"_

_He forced his smile to stay on his face. "Yes, I understand." _

_Lily shifted the books to her left hand. "I'm really sorry…" she said again. _

_He raised his hand. "That's quite all right." He heard himself saying. She dipped her head gratefully before making her way back down the hall. He found he could not move from his spot as he watched her retreating figure. _

_This year it hadn't been a very happy birthday at all._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**- A Question of Trust -**

His stomach felt like it was burning and the feeling crept up – up and up toward his throat, setting flame to his lungs in such intense pain that he could hardly breathe. It was like he was drowning, but not in water, in fire!

He wanted to flail his arms, but he found he couldn't move them. His tongue retracted inward, making him gag and drool and it was all he could do to moan. His eyes began to roll up to the back of his head and his body began to shake involuntarily…

"Doctor!" He could still hear, thankfully, and the voice beside him was loud and panicked. "Doctor!! He's going into seizure!!"

He couldn't control it, and he wasn't sure what was happening any more. He couldn't stop his body movements at all no matter how hard he tried, and he began to feel very, very cold.

Around him, doctors worked to stop it from getting worse as Sirius stood to the side, watching fearfully. This was not the first time Peter had lapsed into seizure yet all the same, the scene was frightening.

It had been two months and fourteen days since their departure from H.W. Academy. Since then, Sirius had taken Peter to a hospital to receive special medical attention in undergoing a Liver Transplant. The donor's liver, however, was suddenly being rejected by Peter's body, and so they were stuck in the sick room until he got better.

On top of other things, Peter was a frail boy. At the age of ten and three years, he had spent most of his life recovering from illnesses in a hospital ward of some sort, and Sirius couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

As much as he wanted to get word out to James about Peter's condition, he dared not to, because the passageways that led back to the Academy were suddenly heavily trafficked by Russian soldiers. He feared that if the information accidentally leaked, another episode of hostage and ransom would take place and there was just no way the hospital would be able to fend off an entire army. Not to mention they could not move even if they wanted to – with his sudden change in health, Peter was in no shape to travel.

Sirius watched, numb, as the doctors did their duty and only when Peter had come to, was the dark-haired man allowed to step forward again.

Disoriented, Peter opened his small eyes as wide as they would go, trying to drink in his surroundings, hoping that he wouldn't get sick to his stomach. His vision blurred momentarily and he shakily tried to push himself into a sitting position. He felt an arm on his back, gently supporting him and easing him upward. His vision cleared at last, revealing one of his most trusted friends who was peering down at him in concern. Around him, the off-white colors of the walls made his eyes hurt.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked, in a whisper.

Peter couldn't get his fingers to stop shaking and he felt his bottom lip quiver. "S-Sirius…"

The man smiled encouragingly. "I'm right here."

He was surprised when Peter suddenly took a fistful of his sweater, his thin, pale fingers curling into the cotton material of his sleeve. He could feel the boy trembling.

"Why…? Why does this always happen to me?" Peter demanded, his other hand clenching into a fist and hitting Sirius' chest weakly. "Why…?" The top of his head connected with Sirius' collarbone as he burst into tears.

Sirius felt his heart twist at his friend's anguished words. Peter hardly cried. He believed that crying was a sign of weakness, and he did everything in his power to stay optimistic; to stay strong. Sirius always found himself wondering where Peter got his strength, but now, he knew that his friend had had enough. Slowly, he drew Peter into an embrace as the child - yes, he was a child, not quite a man grown – succumbed to his misery, letting the tears flow freely.

"My lord, everything will be okay." Sirius soothed. "Everything will be just fine, you'll see."

He waited for a few minutes until Peter had quieted until he pulled away, reaching into his pants' pocket for a handkerchief and gently wiping his tears away.

Peter trained his gaze up to him and whined, "I want to go home."

Despite the situation, Sirius smiled. Princes would be Princes in that they were always spoiled somehow. "We'll go home very soon." He promised. "Your Lord Father will be very happy to see you." He ruffled Peter's mousy, sand-brown hair and helped him to lie down again, bringing the coverlet up to his chin. "You must get some rest first. Concentrate on getting better. Don't upset yourself."

"I'm tired of resting." Peter complained, but Sirius gave him a forbidding look.

"If you are well by night fall, I promise you that we will go up to the roof to stargaze."

That seemed to cheer Peter up a little and Sirius took up the seat next to his bed again, a position that he found himself in very frequently over the past two months.

Peter turned to face him, the bedsprings squeaking as he did so. "Sirius, I don't want to die."

Sirius blinked at his sudden sentence. "Oh, Peter, you're not going to die." He said, quickly. "You'll recover and you'll be within the walls of the Academy again soon."

Peter stared at him for a long time before rolling over onto his back to look up at the ceiling. "I wish James and Remus were here." He whispered, before closing his eyes.

Sirius swallowed back a lump in his throat. "I do too."

**0-0-0-0-0**

The melody lifted, swirling around the classroom, tugging people – enticing the listeners – to stop whatever they were doing to appreciate it. Each note was played with confidence, and the artist melded them together beautifully.

And then, all of a sudden, it stopped, the abruptness of the halt making everyone look up as if a spell had been broken.

"Sir Remus?" Professor Fenns called. "Is something the matter?"

Remus sat stone still by the piano, his fingers splayed over the keys and he stared at the black headboard of the instrument. "I-I…I'm sorry, Professor, I was distracted…"

"It is the Etude no. 2, sir!" Professor Fenns said, sounding a trifle exasperated. "I trust you _did_ study the sheet music?"

"Yes, sir." Remus said, still staring back at the piano's headboard. "I'm sorry, I just…"

Professor Fenns sighed and waved his hand in the direction of the rest of the class. "Join the class, sir. I think you have not yet fully recovered from your illness."

"I can play it again." Remus protested. "I know it by heart! I really do!" His head was swirling, probably because of his bout with the flu. He could practically feel James' eyes burning into his back.

The Professor shook his head. "Perhaps it's best if you return to the Hospital Ward until you are fully recovered." He said, knowingly. "I shan't press you to play any longer." To the rest of the class, he called, "We will rehearse a different piece then, for the time being."

Reluctantly, Remus trudged back to his seat with the other students who were waiting their turn to play their instruments.

It was Branch Session, and all the Gryffindors of the 7th year were gathered together for their art class, and this time it was for Music. It was the subject that Remus loved most, and he was frustrated with himself that he was unable to perform like he normally did.

James leaned forward in his seat. "Are you all right?"

"I stand disgraced." Remus said, angrily. "I can't allow myself to make mistakes!"

"Relax." James said, nudging him playfully. "You know you are the best pianist we have in the Academy – it is truly your _only_ skill."

Sniffing, Remus finally smiled. "I resent that." He muttered, but he knew it to be the truth. He couldn't remember a time when he never played the piano. He was not good in academics, and when the Stripes System had existed, he could get no more than four stripes no matter how hard he tried. He was glad that it had been abolished so that no one could think lowly of him any more.

The class continued, and the Music Hall was filled with the glorious sounds of instruments playing in harmony with each other. A couple of times, Professor Fenns would stop them and go over a few bars or instruct them as to what he wanted to hear. Remus sat back and listened to the melody, rubbing at his throbbing head.

As his gaze swept the class, he realized that Nymphadora wasn't present, but he didn't get a chance to wonder why because James was poking him in the back again. "We shall speak after class," The man said, in a low voice. "There is much to discuss."

Remus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "James, what in heaven's name is going on?"

"I don't know." James whispered, shifting his guitar in his lap to lie in a vertical position, with the front of it facing up toward the painted ceiling.

Again, Remus rubbed at his forehead. "There must be something -" but he never got to finish his sentence because suddenly, the Bells rang, signaling the end of the session.

Professor Fenns glanced up at the clock in confusion. "Ah, we lost track of time." He sighed, and rapped his baton on the metal music stand in front of him. "All right, everyone, be sure to practice. After all, we want to sound perfect." He rapped the baton again, and each time it hit the metal stand, it sent a piercing pain through Remus' head. "Class is dismissed. See you all next week."

There was the sound of scraping chairs as the Gryffindor students got up from their seats and began to pack their things away, their chatter mixing in with the clangs and creaks of instrument cases being opened and closed.

Lady Finella Gradent, Nymphadora's close friend, accidentally dropped the head to her flute and Remus bent to pick it up for her. Just as he handed it back, Professor Fenns called him forward, so he was unable to ask her about his fiancée's whereabouts.

The Arts instructor was gathering his music sheets in his hand, shuffling the papers so that they looked orderly. "Sir Remus, if you're having trouble and would like some help, please don't hesitate to ask." The man said, stuffing the pages into a binder and snapping it closed. "We could rehearse it until you are comfortable."

Remus nodded. "I don't suppose there will be a problem, but I will seek your guidance if necessary." He promised, glancing back over his shoulder at the grand piano, wanting nothing more than to sit by it and prove that he could finish the piece.

The Professor seemed pleased by his answer and gave him a few tips before heading out.

As all the students began to file out, Remus sidled toward his favorite instrument again and played a few notes. James stood off to the side, arms crossed, his guitar case leaning casually against his leg as he listened and waited for the classroom to empty itself.

The sharp sounds of the piano reverberated once again, and when at last the room held no one else within save for the two men, Remus stopped playing and asked, "James, what shall we do?"

James cringed and grimaced. "I don't know."

Now Remus brought his gray-blue gaze up in question and his friend softly said, "I fear that Peter…"

"-Don't say it." Remus roughly cut in. "Peter is fine. With Sirius by his side, he'll be safe."

Frustrated, James drummed his fingers on his guitar's cover. His fear was getting the best of him and he fought the feeling. "We haven't had a Hogsmeade outing for quite some time now," he spoke his thoughts aloud, "so I'm unable to get any information on the events outside of the Academy. There must be a good reason as to why Sirius would not send me his periodic report."

Remus absently pressed a piano key. "If the King asks his army for a briefing, they will tell him that Peter is missing." He pointed out. "Then the King will know you've told him a falsehood. Hiding the Prince and refusing to tell his whereabouts is as good as a death penalty – he will think you have plans of your own for ransom."

James' eyes flashed angrily. "I would lay down my life for the Crown – His Majesty knows where my loyalties lie."

Quietly, Remus asked, "After the infiltration, do you really think the King will not panic over his absence? Peter is his only son, and you _know _how hard it was for him to let him out of his sight! He will wonder at your secrecy."

"I know." James said, bitterly. "But you must understand – I have a bad feeling about all this…"

"To the point that you cannot even trust the Royal Family?"

"To the point that I cannot trust even myself." James confirmed. "The facts just don't make sense, Remus. I've gone over all the questions in my head again and again, and I've only managed to get impossible conclusions. " He stopped pacing and spread his hands helplessly. "During those months, why not let Peter go home when it was so obvious that there was nothing more we could do for him here at the Academy? Why keep the army stationed here, instead of sending them back to the Palace? The academy is no longer in danger…" He picked up his pacing again, still ticking off his questions. "Why disband the Philologi? Why ask for the Treaty to be hidden and want it back now? Why? Nothing makes sense!"

His last word was shouted, and he pressed the palm of his right hand on his forehead as if to suppress his growing anger.

"Calm down, sir." Remus advised. "You're right that it doesn't make sense. You were correct last time about the infiltration. If you hadn't ordered us not to leave Peter's side, we would most likely be in a very different situation right now. Therefore, you may also be right in following your hunch to send Peter away in secrecy."

That wasn't much comfort to James at all. In fact, it made him feel sick to the stomach. "Something is wrong at the Palace…" he murmured. He cast a sideways look at his friend, almost in a pleading manner. "I know my conclusion sounds preposterous, but…the King doesn't sound like himself lately…"

Remus finally reached over and began to close the lid to the grand piano, his movements slow because he was thinking over everything James had said. He knew that James' ability of deduction was amazing, so he didn't want to argue against him. At the same time, he didn't want to believe it: if the King was acting strangely, then it would not only affect the Academy, but the whole kingdom!

"What do you plan to do?" Remus asked at last.

James stiffened slightly with the question. "I will request an audience with him again."

"And if he asks of his son?"

The raven-haired man hesitated for a few moments before saying. "I shall tell a falsehood. Even the King must not know of Peter's whereabouts."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Lily turned the page to the textbook she was reading.

Professor Binns was lecturing but her mind was far from the subject. In fact, she couldn't help but reflect on the past week.

The flu symptoms had become present in Sir Lucius and Sir Severus, rendering them incapable of doing their work either. Now the Elites were in more trouble than they could handle. With three members out of the running, the load had fallen on Lily and Sir Dane. She was afraid that soon, she'd start to have a nervous breakdown.

She saw Dane yawn out of the corner of her eye and she grinned: even he could become bored, it seemed. He was the leader of the Elites – an unspoken rule that Lily had come to accept. No one had proclaimed him as such, but it was just because Dane had been an Elite for far longer than any of the others and had more experience at the job. He was also the eldest and most level-headed.

She couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. With a status such as he held, there was no room for mistakes. Never once had she seen him lose control, nor forget his role. He was perfect…almost too perfect, and that alone was a sad thought. At the same time, she admired his strength and confidence. Since Dane had not made it as one of the King's Philologus last year, he strove to do it again this year, and Lily was sure that he would attain his goal this time around.

Professor Binns didn't even look up, crouched behind his desk in a very uncomfortable-looking manner. His voice remained monotone from one sentence to the next: it was no wonder Sir Dane was already falling asleep. It didn't help that the room was stuffy beyond imagination.

Lily was sorely tempted to open the windows, but she didn't move from her spot, knowing that Professor Binns might get upset.

When her eyes began to close of their own accord, the Professor finally stood, pulling at his mustache. "We will conclude the lesson of The Battle at the Sacred Cathedral here – please find the important facts about the attack on the church and hand in a two page essay by next week." He swept his gaze over his nearly empty classroom and made a small sound of surprise as if he had not known that his students were absent.

He clucked his tongue. "The recent events have taken its toll on the Elites, I see."

Lily expected Dane to protest and tell him that they would be able to handle things just fine, but he didn't. She felt her mood plummet further at his silence and Professor Binns nodded, seeing that his assumption had been correct. "Perhaps the workload for this course will only serve to burden you further?"

Dane sat up straighter and stubbornly shook his head. "You shall have that essay on your desk by the week next." He promised. "I will not shirk any assignments set upon me nor will I overlook my duties."

Lily wished she could echo the statement, but the words were frozen in her throat. She didn't know about Dane, but frankly, she was exhausted. Not only was she shouldering her duties as an Elite, but Sir Severus' and part of Sir Lorien's. By the time she was ready to start her school work, she found she didn't have the energy any more.

Slowly, she got up from her chair and began to gather her books in silence. Her oath bound her to keep her miseries to herself – she had promised that she would perform up to the standards of an Elite, and no matter how high the bar was raised, she would have to try her best to reach it.

As they exited class, Sir Dane walked next to her. "My Lady, how are you faring?" He asked, kindly, after a long while.

Lily managed a smile. "I can't wait for the others to come back." She admitted. "I don't know how you do it…"

Dane actually chuckled. "I'm barely surviving." He said. "But I can't very well let the Professors see that." He seemed to gather his resolve because he nodded, firmly. "No matter how much they add to the load, we have to keep up."

"But we can only do so much." Lily protested. "If you keep telling them that you can do more, they will continually pile you with work and you won't be doing yourself any good."

The Ravenclaw Elite let out a sigh. "You're starting to sound like Chrissa." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I know it's a hard burden, my Lady, but I encourage you to try your best – everyone will understand if you are not in the best of conditions. I know I've already made plenty of mistakes myself."

Surprised, Lily asked, "Really? You?"

He winked. "It may not seem so, but I've been making them continuously for a while now. It's as you said: we can only do so much." They reached their next class and he put his hand on the doorknob but didn't turn it. "Mistakes can be a fatal thing, sometimes," he said, "but don't let that scare you. Humans make mistakes but we are also good at correcting them." He proceeded to throw open the door, leading into the math classroom. "The responsibilities we undertake now will be nothing compared to the ones we will have should we be chosen as Philologi. We might as well get used to the burden."

Lily guessed he had a point.

Unlike Professor Binn's room, this one was not at all stuffy because one of the windows had been left open. That meant that it was rock cold within, but Lily didn't mind the crisp feeling. There were no plush chairs or round tables. In their places were hard, straight-backed chairs and smooth wooden desks that faced a dusty blackboard.

The two of them looked around the empty class and proceeded to choose a place in which to sit. No sooner had they begun to unpack their bags when Professor Gertrude walked in, her flowery skirt billowing as she strode to the front. "Unfortunately, an emergency conference has been called," She told them, "so I will have to dismiss you for a free period."

Lily exchanged glances with Dane. She could hardly believe her ears: a free period for the Elites was a very rare thing.

Dane, however, didn't look very happy. If anything, he looked grim, and when the teacher had left, he stood up, sweeping his blue cape up in his fist. "I wonder what that conference is about?" He asked.

Lily shrugged, pulling the straps to her bag closed. "If it was something for us to worry about, they would have included us in it." She said, matter-of-factly.

He grunted in response, his worried look remaining. "Well, if this is meant as a free period, then we should finish our other work." He said, getting down to business as usual. "Endeavor to do as much as you can, Lady Lily."

She nodded, and he bowed slightly before excusing himself. With a sigh, Lily shouldered her bag and followed him out.

She decided to finish the lists that Sir Severus had started, and then move on to finishing his notes for the Chemistry class she was supposed to teach that afternoon in his place.

Of course, the other students were in their classes, so the hallways were deserted. The soldiers watched her pass with dull eyes, but despite that, Lily knew that they were ready for a surprise attack, their hands only inches away from their pistols and swords.

Not wanting to be in their presence, she went back up to the Gryffindor tower, knowing that in the comfort of her room she would have privacy.

As she climbed, she remembered the first time she had entered the Academy – how big and grandiose it had all seemed! Spiraling staircases, arching windows, elaborate paintings…those things had not existed in her simple life back in France when she had lived with her mother.

Now, it seemed almost normal to be surrounded by the luxuries, and she wondered if she was becoming just as spoiled as the other noble children that attended the Institute.

If only her mother could see her now! She had filled the very role of a Nobleman's daughter, and then some. So far, her mother's condition was steadily worsening and Lily feared that soon, the doctors would announce that there was nothing more they could do for her.

Her father had gone missing for half a year as well, and Lily couldn't bear the thought of losing both her parents. The dark thoughts were always in the back of her head, but as busy as she had become, she wasn't able to dwell on them for very long.

Suddenly, she didn't want to be alone, for fear that the memories would consume her completely. She couldn't afford to fall into depression…not now…

"Lily?"

The redhead spun to find Alice Bailey looking at her from the bottom of the stairs. One eyebrow was raised in question, and she asked, "What are you doing, just standing on the stairwell?"

Lily checked herself. "I…"

"Are you all right?" Her friend demanded. "Don't tell me you're sick too!"

"No, that's not it." Lily said. "I was trying to decide where I would spend my free period…"

"Free period?" Alice repeated. "Professor Laarni gave us one too – she said it had something to do with a meeting of some sort."

_An emergency conference._

That was what Professor Gertrude had said.

If it included all the teachers, then it had to be something big. Now she couldn't help but be worried like Dane. "She didn't happen to say what the meeting was about, did she?" She asked.

Alice shook her head, her black locks bouncing with the action. Today she had them curled tightly into ringlets and tied up so that they framed her face nicely. "We weren't told anything; and by the sounds of it, you weren't told anything either." She dusted her dress absently. "If you ask me, I hope it's about getting rid of the King's Army – they make me nervous."

Well, it was good to know that Lily wasn't the only one who was felt that way.

"It's as though we are being constantly watched, not guarded." Alice continued. "Surely you've discussed this with the others?"

It was Lily's turn to shake her head. "Unfortunately, it's not up to us whether the Army stays or leaves – if His Majesty hasn't recalled them, then he must have left them here for a purpose."

"That's not comforting in the least." Alice said, making her way up the stairs at last. She slipped her arm through Lily's when she reached the top. "Shall we spend the period together, then, my Lady? It's been a while since we've seen each other."

Lily nodded, eagerly. She had almost forgotten about Alice's existence since becoming an Elite – her best friend, however, did not blame her for it and for that, she felt most grateful.

Her worries were once again buried as she made her way up the rest of the stairs, intending to catch up on lost time with her best friend.

They decided to make their way to Alice's dormitory instead, knowing that the Common Room would soon be overflowing with students who wanted to waste away their free period.

Alice's room was no different from hers, only that over the years, the trinkets and pictures had accumulated in numbers. Lily wandered around, picking them up and gazing at them while her friend busied herself with getting tea and biscuits out on the table.

Since Lily had only transferred to H.W. Academy only a short while ago, she was in very few of the pictures.

She paused when she saw one of them, and Alice ambled over. "What is it?"

Lily looked up. "It's Chase." She said, running a thumb fondly over a picture of a short-haired, round-faced woman who had her arms around the two of them while grinning at the camera. No doubt Aesalon had taken the photo.

Alice leaned forward to look as well.

"I've not seen her since the incident." Lily said, thoughtfully. "The King's Army took her in for questioning soon after she received treatment for her wounds."

"Is it true? Was she really the traitor?" Alice asked.

Lily should have known that the rumor spread like wildfire amongst the boarders at the Academy.

"I don't know, Alice." She said. "I never got to speak with her. The only thing she told me was that she was sorry. Beyond that, I don't know anything." She glanced down at the picture again. "According to Sir James, Chase was one person who allowed for the infiltration to happen, but he didn't tell me anything more than that."

As she placed the picture back down with the others on Alice's desk, her friend clucked her tongue. "It's unfortunate. I wonder if she will be returning to the Academy any time soon?"

Lily shrugged. "I hope so. Our group has gotten awfully small, hasn't it?" She followed Alice to the round table by the window. "I'd also like to know exactly what her role was that day…the thought that you can't even trust your closest friends is scary…"

"Come and have some tea, my lady." Alice invited. "I hope you won't deny me that because of your suspicions."

Lily laughed. "I hope I will never have reason to suspect you, Alice."  
Alice joined in on the laughter and whatever uncomfortable tension had built, evaporated with the sound.

As they ate, Lily relished in the feeling of being able to sit and chat and not worry about anything.

Unfortunately, such times would not last.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN:** Finally, I can kick back and relax a little – the school year has finally ended. Hopefully I can crank out some more chapters at a faster rate this summer. Your reviews really help me, I don't know what I would do without them. Please do leave me some feedback before you exit this window.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	4. A Chance

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies._

* * *

AN: Hello everyone! Thanks for coming out to read the fourth chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I know that the last chapter didn't have much, but things will start picking up from here on in. (Summer vacations are the greatest…)

That said, onwards.

* * *

_**Previously:** _

_"Lily?"_

_The redhead spun to find Alice Bailey looking at her from the bottom of the stairs. One eyebrow was raised in question, and she asked, "What are you doing, just standing on the stairwell?"_

_Lily checked herself. "I…"_

_"Are you all right?" Her friend demanded. "Don't tell me you're sick too!"_

_"No, that's not it." Lily said. "I was trying to decide where I would spend my free period…"_

_An emergency conference._

_That was what Professor Gertrude had said._

_If it included all the teachers, then it had to be something big. Now she couldn't help but be worried like Dane. "She didn't happen to say what the meeting was about, did she?" She asked._

_Alice shook her head, her black locks bouncing with the action. "We weren't told anything; and by the sounds of it, you weren't told anything either." She dusted her dress absently. "If you ask me, I hope it's about getting rid of the King's Army – they make me nervous."_

_Well, it was good to know that Lily wasn't the only one who was felt that way._

_"It's as though we are being constantly watched, not guarded." Alice continued. "Surely you've discussed this with the others?"_

_It was Lily's turn to shake her head. "Unfortunately, it's not up to us whether the Army stays or leaves – if His Majesty hasn't recalled them, then he must have left them here for a purpose."_

_"That's not comforting in the least." Alice said, making her way up the stairs at last. She slipped her arm through Lily's when she reached the top. "Shall we spend the period together, then, my Lady? It's been a while since we've seen each other."_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**- A Chance -**

James listened to the ring of steel against steel, his blue eyes watching everything, ever attentive. It was as Professor Merrythought told him: on a battlefield, one had to be aware of one's surroundings. From the way a person stood, to the way he breathed…everything. That was one thing James paid very close attention to. He had learned to read a person through the way he breathed – was he tired, excited, frightened? It was not just in the way one swung his sword, or the way one parried, but in the way his body revealed every strength and weakness.

Sir Joseph, a young man in his third year, was panting already. Exhaustion had claimed the boy's body in the short sparring session that he had partaken in. James could see that his endurance was low, his stamina even lower. In an actual fight, the boy would go down within moments.

It wasn't good enough.

"Stand up," James ordered. "Again. We spar again."

"But sir…" Joseph started to protest.

"-_Watch_ me," James said. "Anticipate!" Without a word of warning, he brought his sword down upon the younger man's. Joseph managed to parry just in time, but his blade wavered and clattered to the floor.

It wasn't good enough.

Sir Joseph fell on his knees soon after, unable to hold his footing any longer. "Mercy…I beg…" he said.

James ran his fingers through his hair. "You lack strength," He said. "You must also work on balance."

"Yes sir."

"Then get up." James bent down to pick up both swords, sheathing his own before handing Joseph' back to him. It was gilded in silver, the sweeping, twisting turns of a pattern ran all along the hilt. Well, it was to be expected: the Barrymount Household was known for their excellent swordsmanship. James had no doubt that Sir Joseph would turn out just as formidable. "Your session has ended for today."

Joseph bowed, hanging his head in shame.

James gently put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Do not worry – you have plenty of time yet."

"But sir, what can I do to improve? I fear I am not adept with the sword," Joseph said, as he clumsily returned the blade to its case.

"Work on things one step at a time," James said, knowingly. "If you try everything at once, you will not get very far."

Joseph bowed again.

Around them, the other students looked on, anxiously. They were all in third year, and seeing them reminded James of Peter. They were about the same height – one or two heads shorter than himself. None of them, though, had the same intelligence level as his friend.

Since Professor Merrythought had died, James had been asked to take over the class of Defense and Practicality. At first, he had turned down the request – the pain of losing his mentor had been heavy and he couldn't bear the thought of taking over. But then, he realized that there was no one else who was capable as there was none other at the Academy with skills high enough.

Where once he would be the one learning, James was now teaching. No one complained, especially since his reputation of being Professor Merrythought's most accomplished pupil was well known by everyone in the Institute. Instead, everyone was in awe of him.

The thought left a bittersweet feeling in James' heart. The responsibility of teaching in Professor Merrythought's place was more of a burden than an honor.

So far, results were slow. Sir Joseph was right – there were those men who could not hold a sword to save their lives. Yet, as it was mandatory for all the men to learn the practice, James tried his best to encourage them.

After the infiltration, most of the students had been more than willing to learn how to use the sword, but they were still too naïve. More often than not, the younger students would brandish their swords in the halls, claiming duels and whatnot.

James could now understand his mentor's frustration.

"Remember, all of you: respect for the sword is a healthy thing. It is a weapon for killing and should not be drawn unless with that intent."

A student – Matthew Perrison, notorious for raising said duels – raised his hand. "Sir James, what about a sword that is used to protect?"

Protect.

James almost laughed.

"A sword that is used to protect does not make the weapon any friendlier to those at the receiving end, does it, Sir Matthew?"

"Are you saying that we _shouldn't _protect ourselves?"

In a blink of an eye, James had unsheathed his weapon again and had it pressed up to the boy's throat. Matthew's eyes went wide, and James could read the young Hufflepuff's fear in them. The rest of the class drew in a late gasp.

"I'm saying, sir, that you should not draw your sword on that pretense. A sword that protects is still a sword that kills." His voice was colder than he expected it to be, but he couldn't help himself. "I shall not hear of you rousing a fight in the halls with that claim, am I understood?"

With a squeak, Matthew replied, "Yes, sir!"

Nodding, James withdrew his sword. "Good."

A spell seemed to be broken because as one, the whole class breathed a sigh of relief. Matthew crumpled to the floor, his knees gone weak.

James, however, felt no pity for the fellow. He began to pace, his voice ringing clear throughout the gymnasium. "You must learn that the sword is not a plaything. It can cause a war – and it can cause your life." His boots clacked, and every eye was on him, he could feel it. "The sword is a very useful tool in defending yourself and those around you, but even so, be prepared to kill your assailant if it comes down to it.

"Be on your guard always. Do not be afraid to strike back if ever a surprise attack is brought you way."

James suddenly turned around and parried a sword that came his way. The blow was strong…familiar. He had known it was coming. He had heard the way the students around him had begun to hold their breaths in bated anticipation and had heard the sound of steel being drawn from its sheath.

He looked up to see Lucius, his teeth bared, bearing down on the weapon.

He should have known.

The man's blond hair was tied back with a swath of green ribbon, to match his cape, signifying which Branch he belonged to. Under his eyes were dark shadows, the only indication of his weakness.

As they exchanged blows, James could see that despite the man's fatigue, he was still ready to give a good fight.

Lucius swept low and fast, a blow delivered with the intent of cutting open James' stomach, but the latter was quick to avoid it, bringing his own blade down to slice his opponent from shoulder to hip.

The attack didn't connect though, as at the last second, James pulled his sword back.

It wouldn't do to have blood sprayed in a duel.

He could tell Sir Lucius was holding back, too, because the man's movements were calculated and measured, always an inch or so away from his body. Still, to the untrained eye, it was cutting it close.

Despite the fact that it was a show put on for the benefit of those who were learning, James knew that Lucius was not playing around. The man was good – second in the art next to him. Whether he resented that fact, James didn't know, but he didn't want to test the thought.

Not that he gloated over it. In actuality, James thought he had a long way to go before he was able to match Professor Merrythought's level.

He jumped back as Lucius lunged, and in a heartbeat, James lunged forward again, his instincts taking over.

Lucius, having no time to dodge, drew his blade downward to deflect the blow, effectively pinning James' sword on the floor. Using his speed, the Gryffindor pushed up, shoving the Slytherin aside with his shoulder, causing the hold to loosen and as Lucius staggered a step back, he took the opportunity to end the fight.

With an eerie fluidness, James held the sword's point to Lucius' chest before the man could so much as raise his sword again.

Time seemed to stop as the men glowered at each other.

Slowly, Lucius let his sword clatter to the floor and raised his hands in defeat. Holding his gaze for a second longer, James flicked his own sword away before slamming it back into its sheath and bowing.

Lucius returned the gesture with a nod. "I'm sorry to interrupt your class." The Elite said, smoothly, looking around at the students.

"You did well," James said, bending down for the second time that day to retrieve his opponent's sword. He held it out, hilt first to the Slytherin, who put it away without blinking an eye. "What causes you to come here, sir?"

"I thought to have a word with you," Lucius said. "I hear tell the other professors have given a free period. It seems you were not informed."

James glanced to the side, where his students had clustered together during the fight. "I am not a professor," He said, tightly.

Lucius smirked, and swept his cape to the side. "Well, in any case, I had thought the meeting would include you."

James did not miss his mocking tone. "Might I finish my lesson, sir, before we speak of such matters?"

It was Lucius' turn to bow. "Yes. Yes, of course."

At that, James turned to face his class. "Look. Listen. _Remember,_" He said, raising a finger. "A man's actions mark his character," He said, quoting the phrase he had learned a long time ago from Professor Merrythought. He waited for someone else to raise their hand with a question, but when none came, he announced, "That will be all, then, gentlemen. Until the next class."

Everyone bid him farewell, before huddling together in their small groups to talk about the match they had seen. What they were saying, though, James was not concerned with. Instead, he turned to face Lucius who now had his hand resting upon the pommel of his sword in a relaxed manner.

"So, then? Why are you not in bed when you are quite obviously stricken with the flu, sir?" He demanded.

Lucius shook his head. "I'm fine."

James narrowed his eyes. "Well, it won't do to have you infecting others, now will it?"

"And here I thought you were worried for my sake," Lucius commented, dryly.

James restrained himself from laughing aloud. "Professor Edmund will summon you when he thinks it time to tell you his thoughts on the affairs of the Kingdom," He told the blond haired man, getting straight to the point. "I don't have any answers for you, Sir Lucius."

Lucius tapped his sword with his forefinger. "I didn't expect you to. I came to tell you not to act rashly."

James raised his eyebrow. "You know something, then?"

"I know you have the tendency to act on your own." Lucius said, shaking his head. "Whatever it is that the King has asked, let it rest until everything has been made clear. War is inevitable, it seems, but if we can prolong it as much as possible, we must take that course of action."

The Gryffindor should have known that Lucius had sources of information. He was, after all, connected directly to the Royal House. "I won't act on my own," James sniped, feeling offended. "And if I do, it will be with good reason."

Having irked James slightly, Lucius turned his heel to leave.

"I find it quite amusing to see how you have all of a sudden taken an interest in the good of the people," James called, to his retreating back.

"Why sir, if there is a war, I shall be included in it and I shan't want that ruining my plans for success," Lucius answered.

Of course. Ambitious as ever.

"Inform me of your thoughts should you have any," Lucius told him. "I will wait for Master Edmund's summon."

"And the other Elites?"

"They will know what is important when the time comes."

With that, Lucius exited, leaving James bristling behind him.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Lorien sat up as Dane entered the room with his Lady by his arm. His fever was still raging, so it was a struggle just to right himself.

Dane quickly bent to help him. "Sir, don't force yourself for my sake." He said. "I came to see how you were faring." He gripped Lorien by the upper arm, moving him to a more comfortable position on his pillows.

"I have been better," Lorien said, through small gasps of breath. It surprised Dane that the man was able to make small jokes at all.

He smiled and took up a seat next to the bed. "I hope you don't mind that I brought Chrissa along?"

"My lady is always welcome…" Was Lorien's response. To Chrissa he said, "My apologies. I'm unable to greet you well…"

"Nonsense, sir. It's to be expected with your condition," The woman said, tucking a brown curl behind her ear.

Lorien, not being much of a talker, fell silent then, but Dane and he had been close friends for a long time already so it was a normal thing for them. At his questioning look, Dane explained, "The professors have decided to hold a meeting. It must concern an official matter."

"Elites are usually present for such things," Chrissa noted.

"That's true…." Dane said. "I don't know what to think of it…"

Lorien didn't answer, of course, and his friend dipped his head in apology. "I don't mean to bring trouble, Sir Lorien. Is there anything I can get for you?"

When Lorien shook his head, Dane let out a breath. "I hope you recover soon – the amount of responsibility has reached a point where I find I cannot breathe."

At that, Lorien cracked a smile and finally spoke. "I thank you for your pains, my friend. I wish I could help out, but as it stands, I am quite unable to even help myself."

Chrissa put a hand on the invalid's shoulder. "Get some rest, Sir Lorien, and gain back your strength." She cast Dane a forbidding look and the man got up from his seat. "We'll leave you be and come to check on you again later."

Lorien sighed in response and she moved to help him get comfortable with Dane's help.

Since his room was stuffy, she opened the window a crack. The light blue curtains billowed gently with the breeze that was let in. It made the fire in the hearth flicker momentarily.

The room was a terrible mess, with books and papers strewn everywhere. It made Chrissa think of a mad scientist's workshop because everywhere she looked there were equations and numbers. Well, since Ravenclaw was the Branch of the Logics, it was to be expected that Lorien would endeavor stay ahead in the subjects of mathematics and science.

Still, for someone who looked so dignified and composed, the state of his room was surprising. She bent down to stack a few papers together and saw that there were many lines that were crossed out.

By the time she came back to his bedside, Dane was already covering the man's sleeping body with a blanket. Lorien's face was pale as parchment, his black hair spreading out on his pillow like spilt ink on paper.

"He won't recover very quickly…" Dane noted, quietly. The man's fever had yet to break.

"Should we take him to the Hospital Ward?"

"Not as of yet," Dane said. "If everyone sees that an Elite is sick, they will panic." He glanced to the door as he spoke. "I will bring Madam Pomfrey up here later tonight." As he took her hand and began to lead her to the door, he said, "It seems that the flu has only gotten worse."

Chrissa took a glance back at Lorien's sleeping form. "Let's pray that the other Elites won't be affected by it."

Dane gave her a grim nod as they exited the room.

Once they were in the hallway, he took her arm. "I'm sorry if all this is such a burden to you, Chrissa…"

She smiled up at him. "I already told you, do not worry for me, good sir." She reached up fix his collar then and proceeded to dust off his cape. "If anything, I worry for you. You haven't had much sleep, I take it?"

The Ravenclaw Elite pulled her forward and planted his lips on her temple in a quick kiss. "I will be fine. With the amount of work, I have had to forego some of my resting hours. That will soon be remedied once the others are back on their feet."

Chrissa pulled away from him slightly. "Dane, are the rumors true? Have the Philologi really left the service of His Majesty?"

"Sir Robyn has written it so, and I know my father not to lie," Dane told her.

"Then who will the King call upon for advice? Who is running the cities and affairs?"

"My lady, I don't know what to tell you," Dane said. "My father told me only that His Majesty has relieved him of his duties and until further notice, they are not to partake in any of the Kingdom's matters."

Chrissa murmured, "How puzzling…"

To which Dane answered, "I agree – I meant to speak with Master Edmund on the matter, as well as Sir Lucius. Perhaps even Sir James may have a thought."

He began to lead the way down to the Ravenclaw Common Room, which was bustling with activity. Several students had taken it upon themselves to throw a Frisbee around, running after it with many a shriek of laughter. It was when a vase was knocked over and broken that Dane cleared his throat.

Everyone froze.

"I'm afraid such conduct is unbecoming to the Branch of Logics," He said, calmly. The fear in the room was so tangible one could almost taste it. He scanned the room and everyone seemed to stand up a little straighter. "Well, then," he continued, when no one spoke a word, "I know everyone is anxious to have some roaming time, but as it stands, we must be a little more patient."

"Sir Dane," A second year by the name of Eugene piped up, "when will we be allowed a Hogsmeade outing?"

The Elite smiled slightly. "Soon, I expect," He lied. "In the meantime, shall we clean up this mess?"

They jumped to do his bidding and Dane felt Chrissa's hand on his, a reminder that there was someone who still thought him normal.

But he'd long ago accepted the fact that there would forever be a gap between him and the others of his House.

Walking the path of a Philologus Elite was lonely.

Without a word, he took Chrissa's hand and squeezed it.

**0-0-0-0-0**

By Dinner Time, Lily had managed to do more than half of the workload that had piled on her. To say that she was proud of herself was an understatement. She was ecstatic – this meant that she would finally get a good night's rest after so long. She'd expected to be buried in her books all night.

It turned out that the Professors had gotten together to discuss helping the Elites in some way, since many of them had become incapacitated and were unable to perform their duties. Since the division of labor was too much for the remaining Elites who were in good health, the Professors had acquiesced to postponing their classes until everything could be settled.

With the workload considerably lessened, Lily sat down to her meal, her appetite perked. That night, it was a nice roasted fowl with potatoes along with chocolate pudding for dessert. While she ate, she opened her textbook on her lap, studying the material for the next day's lectures.

Falling behind was not an option, Sir Dane had made that clear to her.

"Excuse me," A voice said, politely, making her glance up from the Physics explanation. Pavel stood by her table, looking down at her with his intense blue eyes. She found herself returning his gentle smile. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked.

"No, no," Lily said, closing the textbook and setting it underneath her seat. "Is there something…?"

Pavel cleared his throat, pulling at the collar of his uniform. "You were all alone and I thought I might keep you…some company…" he said. "That is, if you don't find that too bold a request?"

Lily hesitated for a moment before gesturing for him to sit. She had not expected for him to call upon her company again, and she had to admit that she was rather flattered. She could see several girls turn their gazes in her direction. Pavel was a very fine person to look upon, she supposed, and Lily couldn't help thinking that it seemed unlikely that he would be interested in someone like her.

"What about Aleksey and Karim?"

"Both are unwell," He replied, as he slid into the seat opposite from her. He began to fidget then, as though he were ready to burst. When Lily asked him what was wrong, he blurted, "I must be frank, and I beg you to consider my words." He leaned forward on the table just as a waiter handed him the night's menu. Pavel didn't bother to look at it, but continued to gaze at Lily earnestly. "You are very beautiful, Lady Lily. I'm quite attracted to you."

Despite herself, Lily felt her cheeks heat up. Frank indeed! She had definitely not expected him to say that!

Pavel hurriedly continued, as though he would lose confidence if he didn't. "The moment I walked into the Academy and saw you, I must admit to being enamored." He fingered the menu's glossy cover as he spoke, a gesture that showed Lily just how nervous he might be feeling even though he sounded very calm.

She stared at him, wondering if she was hearing things correctly. She didn't know what to say – how to respond. For some reason, her eyes traveled over to the table where James was sitting with Remus, the two chatting amicably over their evening meal.

What would he think about Pavel's sudden confession?

Lily blinked, tearing her gaze from his handsome face and trained it on Pavel, who had resorted to looking down at the menu at last because of her silence.

She found her voice, sounding small. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Pavel flicked his eyes up toward her. "Did I upset you?" He asked automatically. "If so, I didn't mean to. I just felt that I could not keep it to myself any longer."

Well, if that didn't leave her touched, she didn't know what else would. She sat back against her chair, her thoughts swirling.

"I don't ask that you answer now," Pavel said. "And if it has made you uncomfortable, I apologize. But even so, please think about my feelings." He said. "I do not tell you a falsehood."

Lily coughed a little. "I…yes…I'll think about them…" she managed to say.

He gave her a wan smile and it made her blush harder. She quickly looked down at her food, but it didn't seem as appealing as it had before.

As if there wasn't enough on her mind.

At the same time, she was very flattered. The only person at the Academy who had ever mentioned anything to her about her looks had been Sirius, and she had foolishly thought back then that he was the one she had fallen in love with.

Unwittingly, her eyes returned to James, who, at that moment, looked up and met her gaze.

She averted it and cleared her throat. "Pavel…do you believe in luck?"

The Russian frowned good-naturedly. "Yes, of course."

"Well, there's a saying that people with red hair bring bad luck with them wherever they go," She said.

This time, he grinned. "What bad luck has befallen you, my Lady? As I said, you are very beautiful. You're also very talented and smart else you would not have secured a position such as you have now."

She hummed in response, picking up her fork just as the waiter came by to ask Pavel what he had decided on. She never listened though, her thoughts wandering back to James.

What did he think about her looks? He had only ever complimented her once, and that had been at the masquerade a while back, and at the time, the words may have been just as ritual as everything else at the Academy.

"My Lady, is something the matter?" Pavel asked, seeing that she had begun poking at her food absently.

She shook herself out of her thoughts. "Sorry," She mumbled. "I guess I'm not hungry any more." She reached out to grab her napkin but Pavel's hand was on hers before she knew it.

"If there is someone else who has caught your fancy, I won't interrupt," He said. "If not, please think of giving me a chance."

Wow, the man was really perceptive! Lily was impressed at how quickly he managed to read her mind. Was she really that obvious?

She sighed, nodding, and he gave her hand a squeeze before withdrawing his.

She stared down at her fingers, where the warmth of his hand had been.

There was something missing in his touch, she realized. Instead of making her feel at ease, he had only resulted in making her more uncomfortable.

The memory of James' hand in hers came to mind so suddenly that the blush renewed itself all over again. There was no way Pavel could have missed it, and he probably thought it was because of him because he shot her a gentle smile as she retracted her hand to the base of her throat.

His food came though, distracting them both, and he raised his wine glass to her in a small toast. "To luck!" he said, and despite herself, Lily laughed, raising her own glass in response.

Complications, it seemed, would always follow her.

So much for a restful night.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

AN: My thanks goes out to _neabear _who pointed out my grammatical mistakes. I hope I managed to fix them. Please don't hesitate to drop me a review of criticism – I greatly appreciate it. It only helps me to become a better writer. The next update should be in two weeks. I hope to see you all there. Also, please review before exiting the window.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	5. Strategic Planning

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…_

* * *

AN: As promised, here is the next chapter! I'm completely loving my summer vacation: reading everything in sight. If anyone has any book recommendations, please let me know. When I'm not reading, I'm trying to crank out ideas for this story in the correct order. Here's to inspiration!

Onward.

* * *

_Previously: _

_Pavel __slid into the seat opposite from Lily and began to fidget, as though he were ready to burst. When she asked him what was wrong, he blurted, "I must be frank, and I beg you to consider my words." He leaned forward on the table gazed at Lily earnestly. "You are very beautiful, Lady Lily. I'm quite attracted to you."_

_Despite herself, Lily felt her cheeks heat up. Frank indeed! She had definitely not expected him to say that!_

_Pavel hurriedly continued, as though he would lose confidence if he didn't. "The moment I walked into the Academy and saw you, I must admit to being enamored." He fingered the dinner menu's glossy cover as he spoke, a gesture that showed Lily just how nervous he might be feeling even though he sounded very calm._

_She stared at him, wondering if she was hearing things correctly. She didn't know what to say – how to respond. For some reason, her eyes traveled over to the table where James was sitting with Remus, the two chatting amicably over their evening meal._

_What would he think about Pavel's sudden confession?_

_Lily blinked and Pavel flicked his eyes up toward her. "Did I upset you?" He asked automatically. "If so, I didn't mean to. I just felt that I could not keep it to myself any longer. I don't ask that you answer now," he continued, reaching out a hand and putting it on top of hers. "And if it has made you uncomfortable, I apologize. But even so, please think about my feelings." He said. "I do not tell you a falsehood."_

_She sighed, nodding, and he gave her hand a squeeze before withdrawing his._

_She stared down at her fingers, where the warmth of his hand had been._

_There was something missing in his touch, she realized. Instead of making her feel at ease, he had only resulted in making her more uncomfortable._

_The memory of James' hand in hers came to mind so suddenly that the blush renewed itself all over again. There was no way Pavel could have missed it, and he probably thought it was because of him because he shot her a gentle smile as she retracted her hand to the base of her throat._

_So much for a restful night._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**- Strategic Planning -**

Since the Festival was drawing near, everyone seemed to be in better spirits. All the students were eager to get out of the Castle, and it must be confessed that the Professors felt the same.

All the classes resumed and went by smoothly. The Elites, with more time on their hands, were able to rest and finish their tasks without much of a hassle. To make things even better, Severus recovered from his bout of the flu and was able to take up his Chemistry classes once more, relieving Lily of her teaching days.

Frequently, students would be seen in the hallways or in their Common Rooms, practicing their parts in whatever they planned to perform at the Festival. The Arts and Athletics Branch had decided on a musical show, and so they were often heard rehearsing within the corridors.

The Festival was known to be a time wherein things could get a little competitive. There would, of course, be contests between Branches and student organizations. The event was open for anyone to attend – Hogsmeade would be packed that day.

…And that was precisely what worried James.

It was past Lights Out. In fact, it was nearing the second hour of the morning, but that did not stop James from slipping out from under his coverlet and creeping silently toward his dormitory door. He dressed quickly and warmly, strapped his sword to his waist and proceeded to let himself out.

He was not surprised when he saw Remus standing in the hallway, a flashlight in hand (though not switched on), also dressed and ready to get going. Without a word, they nodded to each other and hurried toward the stairs.

Everything was quiet. Even the Grandfather's clock in the Common Room, which would usually be ticking away the minutes of the day, stood still and frozen as the air around them. Someone had probably forgotten to wind it up again. The fire in the hearth was out and would not blaze again until the next eve.

Once at the base of the Tower, the two of them looked both ways before ducking into the secret passageway that they had discovered in their first year. It connected directly to the underground maze that had been built centuries ago to confuse anyone who tried to sneak into the Castle. The Kings of old used to traverse the lanes in dark times to get away from those who wanted to usurp the throne.

If it had been cold on the main level, it was colder now. The underground tunnels were dank and dark, and if the two did not know their way around they would have been lost the moment they stepped in. However, the boys knew the passage like the back of their hands because they often traversed it.

As soon as they were on their way, Remus struck up a tune in the form of whistling, and James grinned as he led the way. It had been a long time since they had snuck out like this, and it brought back good memories.

When the tunnel broke up into smaller passageways, they instantly traversed left and continued on for a long while, Remus continuing to hum beneath his breath. It was so dark that though they had the flashlight to guide them, they often had to slow down and pick their way through lest they trip on something and have a bad fall. Where once the darkness had struck fear in their hearts, now, it was like a comforting blanket in which they hid.

"Keep on," James whispered, at last, when Remus let out a sigh, cutting his tune abruptly.

"I'm tired, old chap!" Remus said. "Oh, but Professor Laarni does like to keep me practicing every waking hour of the day!"

James chuckled. "We'll be at the Whomping Willow soon, sir. Once there, I promise we can rest."

"The cold isn't helping one bit," Remus grumbled, pushing himself off the wall and continuing forward. Their voices echoed around them, but soon faded away as they marched.

They picked up their pace a bit and within fifteen minutes, they had reached the Whomping Willow. As promised, they took a short break before getting up and heading over to the Shrieking Shack – a place that had gained its name from the way everything inside seemed to groan and creak. It was the worst place to stay if one wanted rest and relaxation because it was very noisy indeed.

A few blocks away from the Shrieking Shack, was the heart of Hogsmeade Village.

The wind was thankfully still as they crossed over to the Hogs Head Pub which was still open for business. The bartender, a man by the name of Joffrey, spared them no more than a glance as they took their seats at a table to the back, closest to the fire.

Despite the time of the day, the pub was near to full and James took a glance around, eager to find out what he could from the bits of gossip that floated their way. "What'll it be today, sirs?" Joffrey asked him, suddenly by their table, making him jump.

"Give us two Firewhiskeys please," Remus said.

Joffrey nodded. "Where are your other friends?" Referring to Peter and Sirius of course, for they were all regular customers of his. He didn't bother to question the reason why James and Remus were not within the Academy walls at such an hour of the morning.

"Unfortunately, they are indisposed," James murmured. "Joffrey, be a lad and bring us a bite as well, would you?"

The bartender barked a laugh. "Will do, sir!"

James gave him a grateful smile and when the man lumbered away, he said to Remus, "I shan't want to wake tomorrow with a headache. I find food helps hold the drink down well, don't you?"

"I don't take to drinks as much as you or Sirius," Remus replied, with a shrug. He peered over his shoulder, eyeing a group of men who were quite drunk, apprehensively.

"Bloody amazing, I say!" One said, finishing off his exclamation with a loud burp.

"The man got what was coming!" His companion agreed.

"His woman was a bit of a disappointment, though. It wasn't worth the effort to even take her."

James narrowed his eyes and Remus reached out to clamp a hand over his - he had unconsciously begun to draw his sword.

"James, it's not worth it," Remus whispered. "We're completely surrounded! Let it go…"

Slowly, James flexed his fingers and withdrew them. Remus was right: there was no gain in starting a fight now. Still, when women were treated with such disrespect, he couldn't help but get upset.

After all, his own sister had suffered at the hands of brutes.

When Remus was certain that James would not make any rash movements, he let go and slowly eased himself back into his seat. At that moment, Joffrey came back, holding two dusty mugs of Firewhisky and a plate with two steaming bread rolls.

"Is everything all right?" The bartender asked.

"Yes," Remus said, automatically, before James could say a word. "Tell us, has there been any word lately in the town?"

Joffrey scratched his stubble. "Well…other than the fact that everyone is getting ready for the upcoming Festival, we've not had much news. That's to be expected with the weather conditions we've been getting.

"Business is slow, especially without you lot coming down to the village. But with the events that happened at the Academy, that's to be expected too. My condolences."

Remus let out a breath through his teeth and took a swig of his beer. "And those that have come for the Festival?"

"There have been a few, so far," Joffrey reported. "But for the most part, our roads have been blocked by crowds of soldiers."

That caused James to finally perk out of his mood. "Soldiers?"

Joffrey didn't seem to catch his excited tone. "Yeah. They're everywhere all of a sudden. Our inns are completely full of them – our other guests are having a hard timing finding accommodations."

"Soldiers, you say? Where from?" James demanded.

This time, Joffrey scratched his head. "I'm not sure. Germany, perhaps? Sorry, sir James, but I am not very good with languages."

James lowered his eyes in a show of disappointment, but Remus knew him well enough to see that he was overflowing with excitement. "Well, I do hope that it won't interfere with the Festival's preparations. They haven't been acting up, have they?"

"No," was the answer, "as far as I know, they're just a bunch of people looking to have a good time."

The dangerous glint returned to James' eyes and Remus tensed upon seeing it. "What are the crime rates, lately, Joffrey?" Remus asked, quickly, wanting to dispel the look as fast as possible.

Joffrey was about to answer, but someone called his name. Momentarily distracted from them, Remus quickly shot James a warning look before the bartender could turn back to them. "I haven't heard of anything too concerning. Perhaps a robbery a few weeks ago? But the person was caught – a street urchin, I believe. Didn't get the post myself."

James reached over to grab a roll of bread. The inside was full of melted cheese and ham, but the taste was not savored for very long. "Listen to me, sir," he admonished through bites of his food, "keep the women and children away from the soldiers. I hope none of them are housing with the people in the village?"

Joffrey gave the former Elite a suspicious look. "Is there something to be afraid, of?"

"It doesn't rest well with me, that's all," James said. He suddenly broke into a grin as he finished off his roll. "That was delicious! Do you mind if I order one more?"

Joffrey beamed, clearly missing the abrupt way James had switched topics. "Not at all, sir. If you'll just be patient, I'll be right back." And with that, the sturdy fellow stalked away.

When he was out of earshot, Remus turned to James. "All right – that was the most terrible act I've ever seen. If Professor Fenns were to have heard you, you'd stand disgraced!"

James made a face. "I didn't want to frighten the man. And anyway, it seems the soldiers are behaving themselves. We shan't have to worry about encountering them, I pray."

Just as he finished saying the sentence, the door to the pub opened, admitting seven people, dressed in uniforms of red – a familiar color that sent dread through James' body. He felt his heart start to hammer in his chest, and he was certain that his face had turned white.

Those were definitely not German soldiers.

Across from him, Remus had paled considerably too, and his gray eyes were wide. "What on earth…?"

They watched as the Russians made their way to a round table in the middle of the pub, seemingly unaffected by the stares they were getting from the surrounding people. James felt sick to the stomach as they called their orders out to Joffrey.

Nothing was making sense any more.

And that changed everything.

Keeping his voice low, James whispered, "I stand corrected…"

Remus didn't bother to tease, but he flipped his hair back from his face. "What is the King playing at?"

James shrugged, bringing his attention to his Firewhiskey and rubbing the glass absently with his thumb. "This year's Festival will be very tense should the students see the soldiers..."

"Will we have to cancel it?" Remus wondered.

"If we do, it will cause suspicion," James said. Today's trip to Hogsmeade was very eventful indeed. "We shall have to inform the Academy."

Remus finished off his drink and set the dusty mug back onto the table with a bang. No one seemed to notice though, because they were all absorbed in their own conversations. "Then, they will discover that we have broken Curfew rules. Professor McGonogall will not be so forgiving."

"This outing was my idea," The raven-haired boy said. "I alone shall take the blame. I should not want you to be disgraced on my account."

Remus shook his head. "Nonsense, my friend. I will not allow you to cover for me in this."

Sneaking another look at the Russians, James remarked, "This must be the reason why Sirius dared not send a message to us. He must have feared Peter's whereabouts would be found."

His friend also darted a look at the soldiers. "That doesn't bring us any closer to knowing anything."

James finished his drink too, finding that the alcohol burning his throat was somewhat soothing. "We know one thing for sure," He managed to say, in a raspy voice.

"What?"

"England is going to war, one way or another."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Lily pushed her sword to the side, irritated that her cape kept insisting on latching onto it. She had never really learned how to use it – the other Elites told her that the art was not crucial for a Lady to learn, so it hung at her hip as a display of sorts – another useless accessory that depicted her rank.

She pulled open her bedroom door and hurried out, not bothering to swipe her hair back. In actuality, she had just managed to fall asleep for an hour or two when Rosetta had come to her door and woken her up with a message.

It had held four words.

_Elites. Urgent. Master's Office._

So, in short, she had jumped out of her bedclothes and into her uniform as fast as she could. Her body, however, still seemed to be asleep because she found she could not move her limbs very effectively. The thought of sleep sounded heavenly, but Lily determinedly forced herself to move.

She found Rosetta in the Gryffindor Common Room, nervously winding up the Grandfather's Clock again so it was impossible to check the time. "Rosetta, was anything else said?" Lily asked, as she crossed the room.

"No, my Lady. Only that I was to deliver the message to you…" The dark-skinned girl responded.

Nodding, Lily said, "Thank you." And then she added, "I'm sorry they woke you up just for this."

Rosetta's only answer was a curtsy, so Lily thought that the girl must not have appreciated being separated from her bed either. She should have known that a hired hand would not be given any information.

_This had better be good… _

Her heart began to thump harder in her chest with a dread that she couldn't place, as she ran down the Tower steps. When she got to the hallways, everything was dark and quiet, making a shiver run through her body. Unconsciously, she gripped the pommel of her sword tightly with her right hand and pressed forward.

For some reason, she was reminded too much of the night when the Academy had been infiltrated.

The same fear had begun to materialize in her mind, and she mentally chided herself.

That incident was over. Never again would they experience it.

She was not surprised to see that the King's Army still stood at attention at their posts, and it made the feeling worse as she descended the five flights of stairs toward the main floor where the Headmaster's Office was located.

Relief washed through her when she saw the green capes of Lucius and Severus ahead of her. They turned to look over their shoulders as she sprinted to catch up with them and they bowed in acknowledgement, but otherwise, said nothing to her as they made their way to the office.

Dane was already present by the door, but Lorien wasn't with him. Apparently, the man had not recovered from his bout with the flu just yet, so together, the four of them announced themselves before going inside.

Master Edmund was standing by his oak desk, gazing up at a photo of a previous Headmaster, thoughtfully. When he caught sight of everyone he straightened slightly and pulled the lapels of his overcoat down with a swift, sure tug. It looked as though he hadn't gone to bed at all. "Gentlemen – and Lady – I'm sorry to have woken you from your rest at such an early hour."

And indeed it was, because Lily finally saw that the time read just after before six in the morning.

She also saw that Remus and James were standing by the window, both looking uneasy. Both were dressed down in outdoor clothing, heavy jackets and the Gryffindor-colored mufflers. It was quite evident that the men had stolen from their rooms.

Lucius narrowed his eyes and settled his gaze on James. "You were ever the rule-breaker. It's no wonder you were removed from the seats of the Elites."

Lily thought that James would fly over and punch Lucius for the comment, but it didn't happen. Instead, the raven-haired man simply tensed slightly and replied coolly, "I don't deny my habits, but I stand by the Oath that I swore to: I have pledged my service to this school and its members."

None of the other Elites said anything as they had all sworn the same thing when they received their pendants during the ceremony that seemed so long ago.

"I'm afraid we have some pressing matters that I must call to your attentions," Master Edmund said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "It seems Hogsmeade now hosts a file of Russian soldiers."

"As to their intent, we were unable to get any more information other than the fact that they have taken up quarters there for a period of what seems like a month or more," Remus reported. "According to the inhabitants of the Village, there have not been any major incidents that include them."

Lily felt her heart start to thump again, and she was pretty sure all the others were feeling the same way. Their faces looked stricken, as though they were unable to quite believe their ears.

"Have you seen them?" Severus asked at last, his voice calm despite his obvious discomfort.

Both men nodded. "The evidence is clear – the inns are overflowing with them. The roads to and from the Village have been blocked because of them. It seems as if a whole regiment has been sent out to settle themselves nearby."

Dane rubbed at his chin while he listened. Lily expected him to say something but when he didn't, she stated, "Is this why His Majesty won't remove his Army from the Academy? Is he afraid of an attack again?"

"If so, there are hardly enough soldiers here to ward off a whole sect of an army!" Lucius said in protest.

James pushed his hands through his hair. "Let's not panic," He said.

"Yes," Dane said, finally. "Sir James, Sir Remus, please, tell us what you heard. Describe to us what you saw. Leave out no detail."

So, James and Remus began their tale, interrupting each other when they thought it was necessary, and together, they recounted everything that they had found out during their short trip to Hogsmeade.

While they were telling the story, Dane began to pace, Lily and Severus had each found an armchair to sit down in, and Lucius had taken to leaning against one of the bookshelves that circled the room. The Headmaster still stood by his desk, trailing a finger over his lampshade, watching the Elites intently.

When there was nothing more to say, the only sound in the room was the sound of the clock ticking - even Dane had stopped pacing and was now staring absently into the hearth at the flames, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "You say the Russians have been boarding there for a month or so?"

Remus nodded. "And it doesn't look as though they have an intention of leaving any time soon."

"And their leader?"

"I heard tell it was a man with the name Toma," Lucius spoke up. When all eyes turned to him questioningly, he said, "I remember Aleksey telling me that Ivan's rank as General was taken over by a man named Toma."

"So they're waiting for instructions of some sort," James said, more to himself than to anyone.

Lily was at a loss. Unlike the men, she was not very close to political matters because she had only been exposed to them over the last few months, if at all. She found it all too complicated but even though she didn't know what was going on, she tried to keep up. "Instructions?" She repeated.

"Something big is about to happen," James confirmed, striding forward. "This time it won't be a surprise." He looked to the Elites as he came to a stop by the Headmaster's desk. "We have to ensure the safety of the students."

"Perhaps that is what they're waiting for," Lucius said. "They may be waiting for us to make the first move – an excuse, if you will, to attack us."

James lifted his chin. "There _is_ no excuse. Peter is no longer in the building, sir. They have no one left to try and abduct." He wasn't being vague because everyone in the room knew of Peter's status. "And what's more, it would be foolhardy to start an attack from our side. I propose we look for a way to prepare for the worst."

"Fair and well, both of you," Dane interrupted, "but you're both ahead of yourselves again – and on opposite poles not surprisingly." For it was a known fact that James and Lucius never agreed on anything. He turned away from the fire. "The problem isn't whether they will attack first, or if we shall attack first. The problem, sirs, is what steps we shall take to figure out the intent of these soldiers.

"Sir Lucius, speak with Aleksey and find out all you can about this Toma figure. Sir Severus, I want a detailed account as to the activity of the soldiers at the passes of the town. I want to know if they are importing or buying any arms.

"Lady Lily, you must go down to Hogsmeade and check supplies there – it won't do if our resources are cut off either. With the amount of soldiers that reside there, it's very likely that the Village will have a hard time keeping up with the rate of consumption.

"Sir James, I want an exact headcount of the soldiers that are within Hogsmeade. If it comes down to a fight, we shan't want ourselves to be outnumbered again. And if worse comes to worse, we shall need a passage in order to evacuate the school. Sir Lorien and I will check to see if we have supplies enough at the school in case it comes down to that."

_Evacuation._

Lily's chest was starting to hurt with the way her heart kept throbbing in fear. Was the nightmare going to start again?

"Sir Dane…what about the Festival?" She asked. "If the students find out about all this, there will be panic."

Dane passed a hand over his face, wearily. "The Festival must continue as planned," He said, at last. "To cancel it would dampen the students' spirits even further. It is inevitable as they will find out sooner or later." He glanced briefly at Master Edmund to see if there were any objections to his plan.

"It sounds risky…" Severus said, when Edmund didn't say a word.

"We don't know anything of their itinerary: we should not panic as of yet. After all, the small regiment may just be passing through and have no intention of harm against us. If they are out to deliver a surprise attack, well, it will be our way of showing them that this time, we know they are out there and that we will not be taken unaware," Dane explained.

There were nods all around at that, and Lily took a deep breath, trying to piece it all together. So far, they were only supposed to scout. That sounded easy enough. But what was this uneasy feeling she was getting?

Her heart was pumping so fast now that she could feel the blood start to rush to her head.

"Lady Lily, are you quite all right?" James asked.

She blinked and nodded, trying to shake the feeling away. "I do feel kind of faint…" She admitted.

"You must be tired," Dane commented. "Well, we all are, I suppose." To her, he said, "Why don't you try to get some rest now, my Lady? Your nerves must be frayed."

"I'll take her back." James offered, taking her hand and hoisting her to her feet easily. Lily felt like her legs were made out of pudding when she got up and she clung to his arm like a lifeline. If she was hurting him with her grip, he gave no indication of it.

To everyone, Lily said, "I'm sorry…"

Master Edmund finally spoke. "I will speak to the Professors on the matter. You have all had a very rough night – for this operation, we need the Elites to be fully functional and capable of running a level head. Rest as much as you can for now, and see to your duties as you have been instructed. Your classes will resume once your tasks have been seen to.

"Sir James and Sir Remus, get your rest as well. You have both served magnificently tonight; however, I will speak to your Head of House as to your punishments for breaking the rules. We cannot overlook that fact."

Remus nodded, in a resigned manner. "Yes, Master." He sheepishly looked around at the Elites and excused himself for the night, ahead of them.

James did not reply, but rather bowed as he led the Lady by the arm toward the exit. His other hand came out to rest on the small of Lily's back to steady her in case she wanted to collapse. Strangely, the gesture seemed natural, almost as though it was a regular occurrence and it didn't bother Lily in the least.

"Master, we'll bid you goodnight then," Sir Lucius agreed, sweeping his cape around and gesturing for Severus to follow him and disappearing through the door.

Dane made to leave too, saying that he would relay the plans to Lorien, saluting the Headmaster before leaving the room.

James and Lily brought up the rear, slowly exiting. No one paid them any attention and as they picked their way to the Grand Staircase, he asked, "Can you climb, my Lady?"

Lily took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine…"

"We can go through the underground passageways if you want."

She shook her head. If there was one thing she was terrified of, it was dark enclosed spaces. "No, I can climb," She insisted and as if to prove her point, she began to do just that, James following behind her in case she toppled over.

The ascent went smoothly, but even so, James accompanied her to her room, hovering by her door as she turned to face him. "Will you be all right?" He asked, anxiously.

She couldn't help but smile at his concern. "Yes."

He took a step forward, his hands coming out to fix her cape which had tangled itself once again around her sword. "I know you're scared, my Lady," he said, quietly, "I am too…"

Lily watched his hands methodically smooth out the red material. They were rough and calloused but hands she knew were warm and gentle. Without thinking, she grabbed hold of one and blurted, "I don't want anyone else to die, Sir James. I wouldn't be able to bear it!"

He smiled, showing two sets of perfect teeth when he did so. She had almost forgotten how handsome he was, and she felt herself blush when he trained it on her. "Don't worry. I won't die so easily."

She felt the blush creep all the way to her toes, and he chuckled softly at the stunned look on her face. "Sleep well, Lady Lily." He proceeded to plant a kiss on the back of her hand before turning around and striding away before she could so much as utter a word.

Lily stared after him, her heart hammering against her chest again but this time, not out of fear.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN: **Thank you everyone, for your reviews, especially those of you who reviewed for every chapter thus far. I like reading your rants and ideas – they're all very inspiring and amusing.

I just finished reading Stephanie Meyer's _Twilight_ series about two weeks ago – what's available to read, of course, since the fourth book doesn't come out for a while yet. I was tricked into it, actually, since I usually avoid vampire books, but I found it very addicting. If anyone wants to addict me to another series (as I am in dire need of books right now) please feel free to let me know titles/authors!

Well, if that isn't enough ranting, I don't know what is. Please look forward to the next chapter…maybe in two weeks? In any case, while you wait, I ask that you review and let me know your thoughts.

Thanks for reading, (and reviewing!)

-P.P.V.V.


	6. Subtleties and Challenges

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies…_

* * *

**AN**: Hmmm…I realize there are a lot of loose ends people are asking me about. Don't worry, they _will_ be answered. I'm keeping tabs on them. As for Lily and James' relationship, patience, my readers! It will come, I promise. Now, fueled from the reviews so graciously given to me, I present the next chapter, on time and as promised.

Onward.

* * *

_Previously:_

_James accompanied her to her room, hovering by her door as she turned to face him. "Will you be all right?" He asked, anxiously._

_She couldn't help but smile at his concern. "Yes."_

_He took a step forward, his hands coming out to fix her cape which had tangled itself once again around her sword. "I know you're scared, my Lady," he said, quietly, "I am too…"_

_Without thinking, she grabbed hold of one and blurted, "I don't want anyone else to die, Sir James. I wouldn't be able to bear it!"_

_He smiled, showing two sets of perfect teeth when he did so. She had almost forgotten how handsome he was, and she felt herself blush when he trained it on her. "Don't worry. I won't die so easily."_

_She felt the blush creep all the way to her toes, and he chuckled softly at the stunned look on her face. "Sleep well, Lady Lily." He proceeded to plant a kiss on the back of her hand before turning around and striding away before she could so much as utter a word._

_Lily stared after him, her heart hammering against her chest again but this time, not out of fear._

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**- Subtleties and Challenges -**

James awoke to someone knocking incessantly at his door.

Groggily, he pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to answer it. He felt as though someone had pulled the plug to his energy and it was slowly being sapped away. When he managed to pry it open at last, he saw Lily standing just outside, dressed smartly in her uniform, looking fresh and wide awake.

She cast a critical glance at his pajamas and demanded, "What are you still doing in bed? We've got to go down to the Village today, remember?"

James blinked at her sleepily, resisting the urge to yawn. "Hurry, get dressed and come downstairs: Lady Minerva expects you in her office in ten minutes."

Trying to drink in her words and understand them at the same time, James rubbed at his forehead, tiredly. It felt like he had only just fallen asleep and he hadn't had nearly enough rest. If anything, he wanted to get back under the comfort of his coverlet and sink back into bliss and oblivion.

"Are you okay?" Lily demanded, when he made no response.

"Pray excuse me…" he mumbled, his tongue finally remembering how to work. "I'm afraid I'm not yet fully awake."

She seemed sympathetic. "I'm sorry I woke you up…"

This time, he did yawn and turned away from her as he did so. Lily smiled a little at that and he blushed. "Give me a few moments to freshen up," he told her, "and I will be down as soon as possible."

She nodded. "I'll let Lady Minerva know you'll be on your way and I'll wait for you by the Front Hall after Lunch."

"I appreciate it, my Lady."

Lily nodded again and turned to leave while he gently closed the door once more, resting his forehead against the rough wood. From the corner of his eye he could see his bed which seemed to be beckoning to him.

Rest could wait. After all, it was his fault for his missed hours of sleep. With great effort, he crossed his room to start getting ready for the day.

By the time he reached Professor McGonogall's office, the Lunch Time Bells were pealing throughout the hallways and crowds of students were making their way to the Dining Hall. He had to squeeze through them, for his destination was in the opposite direction.

Sure enough, the Lady was expecting him. When he announced his name, she answered for him to enter, tartly. Today, she wore a dress that reached her ankle-length boots, free of any lace or ribbons, pale blue – a color that James thought did not suit her at all – and her hair was let down so that it fell across her shoulders.

"Sir James, your courtesies," she reminded him when he just stood there and stared at her.

Flustered, James hastily dipped into a bow. "Good afternoon, Professor." When he straightened, he cast his eyes on the floor, afraid that he'd start staring again. It was rare for his Head of House to wear anything so flashy and he wasn't used to the sight.

"I believe you know why you were called here. Curfew hours are observed strictly at 9:00pm yet you were out of your dorm past that hour," she said, cutting straight to the point. "You know the rules."

"Yes ma'am."

"You know the reason _why_ we have such rules, I expect?"  
James finally looked up into the older woman's eyes. "Yes ma'am."

"Then, you know very well that you are to be under disgrace."

Without blinking, he said, "Yes ma'am."

McGonogall frowned. Here before her stood a man who had just a few months ago, attained one of the highest positions within the Academy and had been a person whom everyone had looked up to.

In truth, James was one of her favorite students (but she'd be damned before she admitted that aloud to anyone) because once he had a goal in mind, he raced toward it without hesitation. There were very few people in the Academy who had such self-discipline.

"With what happened a few months ago, it is imperative that all students be accounted for – I know your abilities with the sword are exceptional, but you are safest when you are within the walls of the school at night fall. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You are a man grown, sir," McGonogall pressed. "I dislike it that I must lecture you so. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

James bowed slightly again. "I beg pardons for my actions and I don't deny the fact that I committed them. In addition, I'd like to mention that it was I who initiated the plan of leaving the school past Curfew Hours."

He was surprised when McGonogall gave him an amused smile. "Interesting. Sir Remus told me the same thing. Now, who could be lying, I wonder?"

Remus had probably tried to lessen the woman's wrath on him. He decided not to respond, straightening once more and staring down at his boots.

"Sir James."

He glanced back up. "Yes, Professor?"

"For your honesty, I must congratulate you." If she meant him confessing to the Master the night before that they had broken Curfew rules or confessing to have led Remus into trouble he didn't need, James didn't know.

"A formal notice will be placed on your dormitory door, announcing your punishment. You will work alongside the stable boys for the next three days at noontime." At his pained expression, McGonogall continued, firmly, "It is that or the kitchens in the scullery."

James took a deep breath. If there was one thing he hated, it was washing dishes. With the amount of students in the Academy, he'd be doing the dishes until the next week. Professor McGonogall seemed to sense his dislike for the second option, so she clapped her hands twice and announced that he would report to the stables upon the next day.

Instead of arguing, James bowed once more, accepting the sentence before the Lady allowed him to go for lunch.

As he hurried off to the Dining Hall, he couldn't help but wonder whether Remus had been given the same punishment, or if he had been assigned to the kitchens instead. Whatever the case, he felt bad for involving his friend at all.

By the time he reached the Dining Hall, everyone was already seated and eating their meals. A few heads from his Branch turned to look his way, the word of his disgrace no doubt already starting to spread. He tried not to think about how many people would be staring at him later that night when they found out his punishment.

Remus was no where to be seen, so James quickly found a seat that was empty alongside Sir William Weasely and Sir Rubeus Hagrid who were devouring their meals as though they had not eaten for days. The latter had the grace to wave his fork and welcome him.

"Ye didn' go to the Assembly this mornin'," he noted, taking said fork and plunging it into the chicken breast on his plate.

James raised the corner of his mouth slightly, in an attempt to smile. "I had some business to attend to," He replied, picking up his menu.

At that, William perked up. "Is that so? There is talk about you getting into a quarrel with someone in Hogsmeade Village."

Talk.

The Noblemen and women were noted for that.

"And they say it is giving the Academy a bad name…" William was saying.

James almost snorted at the gossip. Let people think whatever they want. "Yes, well," came his dry response, "we all know how reliable the rumors are nowadays."

At that, William laughed, and Rubeus joined in, his big meaty hand slapping his thigh as he did so.

Despite what everyone said about Rubeus, James was intrigued by him – especially the way he rolled his words together. Others were turned off by the fact that they could not understand him, but those that could, found him to be very amiable indeed.

William, on the other hand, reminded James of Lily because he too, had fiery red hair. While both of his parents were of noble blood, the trait (which had been associated with the commoners) had found its way into their line, causing the rest of his siblings to inherit it as well.

They ate their meals with casual conversation, and thankfully, neither of them asked where Sirius and Peter were, because James didn't want to lie again. Whenever anyone commented on his friends, he would always try to divert the conversation.

The two finished their meals before him, so they excused themselves and went ahead, leaving James sitting alone at his table. A part of him was glad that he did not have to make small talk, while the other part missed his friends terribly, wishing for their company.

He was most surprised when the chair next to him was pulled out and occupied by Pavel, who seated himself without hesitation.

James wondered if the man had forgotten to be polite, or if it was normal for the Russian people to take seats without first announcing themselves. Whatever the case, he paused in order to wipe his mouth with his napkin.

"Sir James, I hope I'm not interrupting your meal," Pavel said.

James shook his head. "Not at all. What can I do for you?"

"I must ask you a question," the man said, quickly.

A little taken aback, the Gryffindor turned from his meal and said, "Well, let's have it then."

Pavel stared at him long and hard. When he remained silent, James pushed his seat back. "If you've nothing to say…" he began, but Pavel blurted, "Are you and Lady Lily…seeing each other?"

James cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon?"

"Are you and Lady Lily seeing each other?" Pavel repeated, this time, more firmly.

Pulling at his collar, James decided to evade the question by asking one if his own. "Why do you ask?"

Pavel's eyebrows furrowed as he frowned, his patience clearly wearing thin. "It's a simple question, sir: either you are, or you aren't."

The Gryffindor crossed his arms. "Very well – we are not."

The grown melted into a relieved smile. "Good. I had thought…"

And then, it clicked: the man was checking his competition – which meant only one thing…James wanted to jump out of his seat. Instead, he asked, "Do you fancy her, Pavel?"

"Well, I…"

"It's a simple question, sir: either you do, or you don't," James said, mimicking Pavel's earlier words.

"I do," The man answered. "And I've also told her as much."

James felt as though his heart fell into his stomach. "I have a feeling that she also reciprocates my sentiments because she told me that she would think about them," Pavel added.

The hot claws of jealousy dug themselves deeply and painfully into James' chest at the news. No wonder Lily had always denied his advances – she already had someone in mind. How could he be so stupid? He tried to think of something to say, but his mind was blank and he couldn't find the words.

"But you fancy her too, don't you, Sir James?" Pavel asked. "I can tell by the look on your face."

"Yes," James admitted. He decided not to tell him that he had asked Lily out as well but had been rejected countless amounts of time. He had been so confident that she liked him back.

Pavel stood then, dusting off his brown uniform. "Well, I won't give her up to you," he announced. "And I'm certain you don't want to get in the way."

James narrowed his eyes. "Is that a threat?"  
Pavel shrugged. "Take it as you will," he said, "but the Lady Lily and I have a good relationship, if I may say so myself. We are able to converse freely with each other – there is no other match for me."

Apparently, he was very smitten by the female Elite. He trailed his finger along the edge of James' plate slowly, and the Gryffindor watched him do so, miffed. All of a sudden his appetite was gone and he was about to get up when Pavel shot him a cold look. "If we must be rivals, so be it. However, just watch and see – it will be I who makes the Lady Lily happiest." He broke into a smile then, the dark countenance leaving his face all together, as if it had never rested there to begin with. "Good day."

DumbfoundedJames could only watch his back as he retreated.

What in heaven's name had that been about?

**0-0-0-0-0**

Hogsmeade was very different in the morning than it was during the night. For one thing, it was livelier with people milling the streets going from store to store, either looking for a certain trinket or browsing through the merchandise on sale. For another, it gave a cozy feeling of welcome with shop owners calling out gaily from their doorsteps.

Enter, enter!

The sweet aroma of baking goods and candy beckoned.

A new collection of fashion and jewelry just come in from Farsweid, a neighboring village.

Look! See!

The finest collection of art and music available.

Yes, Hogsmeade definitely was a spectacle in itself.

Since the Village was so close to the Academy that harbored many young lords and ladies of the noble houses, it had to constantly cater to the tastes of the rich as well as to the wandering merchant.

It did its business swiftly and people from far and wide often came to visit, hoping to see what offers they could get from such a prestigious town.

Since the last of the bad weather had passed and the Festival was drawing near, everyone seemed to be on the streets that day.

James cleared his throat and Lily, who was walking next to him, looked up. The two of them had come down, as ordered, to scout and find out what the Russian soldiers were up to. Severus had not come down with them because he had had to teach classes, and James was glad for it – he disliked anyone from the House Slytherin – and, it gave him time to be alone with Lily.

"You should stay fairly close to me," he said. "In case we run into soldiers, that is."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Sir James, this trip is strictly to assess their actions. Nothing more."

James gave her an innocent look. "I merely meant to keep you from harm's way." At her disbelieving look, he cleared his throat again. "It's better if people in the Village do not know we are students from the Academy. That way, they would have no suspicions about us poking around."

"You forget, Elites have every right to ask about the affairs of Hogsmeade," Lily pointed out.

"Yes, well…" James ran his hand through his hair. "I don't want those soldiers to know anything."

Lily sighed, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Fine. If it makes you feel better, I won't leave your line of sight."

He smiled a little at that, watching as she stalked on ahead, purposefully keeping in front of him, her red hair swaying in the afternoon breeze. Today, she did not wear her cape – it was a bother to travel with, she had said, and so she had left it behind at the school. She had her sword at her waist though, that James had made sure of. She hid it effectively with her coat so that no one would see it, but it was easily accessible if she needed it. He did not want her to be unprotected if something did happen. His own sword was hidden beneath the folds of his coat as well.

But in all honesty, confronting the soldiers was not his biggest worry. He couldn't help but dwell on what Pavel had told him earlier.

Was it true that Lily had feelings for the man?

_Now's not the time to think about that_, James chided himself. He had to concentrate on his task – to find out how many soldiers had stationed themselves within Hogsmeade. Already, as they walked through the streets, he could see soldiers everywhere he looked.

All of them, he noted, were armed.

"It looks like they're not just here on vacation," he muttered and when Lily asked him what was wrong, he shrugged and said, "It's nothing. Let's go down this way." He reached out and snagged her wrist, tugging her around a corner. She made a little sound of protest but otherwise gave in because his grip was strong and she could not break free of it.

"Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop," he announced, as if he had just discovered it for the first time. "Let's go inside."

She tugged her wrist free the moment he let his grip slack. "What for?"

"We don't want to be conspicuous. We'll go in as normal customers," he told her, as he led them forward. "We don't want people to know what our objectives are, do we?"

"I don't see why we have to be so secretive," Lily grumbled.

"We're trying to avoid unnecessary fights," James reminded her, pushing open one of the double doors leading in. "Now, come on. I know it's a roundabout way, but we have to do things right. I cannot protect the both of us from an entire army. Besides, this will be our first step in finding out what we must."

Rightly chastised, Lily meekly followed him inside the shop. It was spacious, the rows of shelves filled with school supplies of every kind, the number one feature merchandise being the good old quill.

Ink bottles in every color lined shelves stored away behind glass panes, most probably to avoid anyone bumping into them and causing any breakage. The middle of the store held a display of notebooks and stacks of parchment in various shapes and sizes.

The storeowner was a sour-looking fellow his long face a ruddy color, like that of red earth. He was thin – almost too thin because his ribcage was clearly seen from the way his flimsy shirt stuck to his body. He didn't bother to greet them, watching them dully through dark eyes.

James strode purposefully up to him. "Good day, sir. How are you?"

"Better than I was this morning, I suppose," the man muttered. "What do you want?"

James exchanged a glance with Lily who looked very amused at the man's curtness. "I'm looking for a set of Appercus Quills. I hear they're the best in town."

"Takes a long time for those to wear down," the storeowner agreed. "We don't have any in stock right now."

Disappointed, James craned his neck to look at the stack of quills behind the counter. "Then, what do you recommend?"

"Quills are all the same, aren't they?" Lily asked, striding to stand next to him.

At last, the storeowner's expression changed from that of being bored to being offended. "Of course not, you silly girl!" He snapped. "There are all sorts of quills – the cheap ones always break at the tip. The round ones allow for a bigger lettering. The thinner ones are used for writing that is more elegant. The sharp ones are used for rough parchment."

Again, the two students exchanged glances. If the man wasn't enthusiastic about customer service at least he was well-informed about the merchandise. Before he could go on, James interrupted, "Ah, I'm sorry about that. We're from…out of town so we don't know much about these things. Pardon our ignorance."

The storeowner returned to looking sullen. "From out of town, eh?" he drawled. "What do you want to buy a quill for?"

"A present," Lily piped up, "for…a friend of mine for her birthday."

"You came all the way to Hogsmeade to look for a quill?" The man asked, sounding suspicious.

"There are many things of interest here," James said, nodding. "Although, we were wondering about those soldiers in town. Is there something going on?"

Lily was impressed by the way he had begun to ask for information while seeming to browse the quills on the counter.

Subtle indeed!

"I don't know anything," the man griped. "Because of those soldiers, my shipment hasn't been coming in fast enough – and they seem to be scaring away all of my customers. It doesn't help that youngsters like you don't help the business either, stealing and breaking and the lot. Are you gonna buy or what?"

James picked up a particularly long quill, its feather drooping. "I think I'll take this one," he said.

"That one is expensive," the storeowner said, with a sneer.

"That's all right," James told him. "Name your price."

"It's twelve galleons," was the answer.

Wordlessly, James reached into his pocket to pull out his money. Lily held her tongue at the ridiculously priced item because James gave her a forbidding look when she opened her mouth to protest.

When the quill was bought and they had left the store, Lily finally said, "Sir James, you didn't have to buy anything! That man completely cheated you of your money!"

Her companion nodded. "I know. He doesn't seem to like young adults very much, does he?" At her pained expression, he tweaked her chin with his forefinger. "I wanted to show him that not everybody is out to destroy his business. There are some of us who wish to help, especially in times like these." He glanced down at his purchase. "This is made of material that pales in comparison to the Appercus Quills, yet he priced it two times as much."

Seeing her troubled look, he gently nudged her with his shoulder. "Don't think on it, my Lady. At least we found out something useful."

"Like what?"

"Supplies to certain stores are being blocked because of the soldiers. Wasn't that your job? To find out how the supplies of the Village are doing?"  
Lily gazed up at him in wonder. "Sir James, you really are something else."

He grinned. "I did tell you that it would be a roundabout way of getting information didn't I?"

"Yes, but if you're looking to spend at every store we go to…" Lily said, trailing off at the end of her sentence.

"Don't worry. I promise I will not spend frivolously again for the rest of this outing," he said, holding up his right hand, solemnly. "We have until Curfew to find out all we can – let's relax and enjoy it while we're here."

It was Lily's turn to grin and she nodded. "All right. Now where should we go?"

"Let's go check the Inn," James suggested, as they crossed the cobblestones of the pathway they were walking down. They were pink and gray in color, all of them the same size and shape. They wound up the pathway, breaking into several other pathways that led to shops and stores. "We'll find registers of just how many soldiers are staying within. That will make my headcount easier. Afterwards, we'll check the actual passes to the village and talk to as many people as possible. If we run into trouble, you can pull rank as an Elite, but that will be a last resort: remember, we're trying to remain inconspicuous."

They went to the inn and pretended to ask for a room. As Joffrey had mentioned the night before, every one of them was occupied to the point of bursting. The registers were full of names: so much so that two books had to be used to record everything.

The names were all written down neatly in the innkeeper's writing. "I'm sorry that there are no rooms available – we've had a lot of business recently," the innkeeper said, as Lily and James flipped through the pages. "Most of them are soldiers though."

Pretending to be ignorant, James closed the books and handed them back to her. "Soldiers?"

"Are they dangerous?" Lily asked at the same time. "I mean, what are they here for?"

The innkeeper seemed ill at ease with her question. "Soldiers are soldiers: they bring trouble with them wherever they go. They're rowdy, restless and up to no good I'd imagine."

James idly started tapping his foot on the ground, his mind racing all the while. "Is that so? Well, we shan't want to stay here if that's the case. Is there anywhere else you can recommend us to lodge before the Festival?"

The innkeeper shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't think there is another place that has vacancy. Everything is full."

"Everything?" James repeated, stressing the word, though he already knew this fact from Joffrey last night. "How many soldiers are there?"

Once again, Lily glanced at him in awe. Trust James to be able to weasel the information so easily out of anyone. She admired how well he managed to keep the conversation flowing without so much as a look of suspicion.

The woman shrugged. "Probably close to 700," she answered. "In this inn alone, there are close to one hundred of them. I've had to cram six of them in a room – I even have some occupying storage rooms! Because of that, our supplies are always on the verge of running out." She let out an embarrassed laugh. "I suppose I shouldn't be complaining that our business is doing so well, should I?"

"700 soldiers is quite a number," James told her, but Lily knew that he was talking more to himself than to the innkeeper. "I wonder…how long do you suppose they will be staying here?"

At that, the woman frowned. "It beats me. Every time I ask one of them, they tell me that they will move out when the time comes."

Lily saw James' shoulders tense momentarily before he shot the innkeeper a smile and a nod of thanks for her information. "Come," he told Lily, reaching out and taking her hand in his, "we'll look somewhere else."

Without waiting for her response, he turned and headed toward the exit, and Lily was left to follow in his footsteps once again. For the second time that day, she tugged at his hand and asked him what was wrong. He cast her a haunted look. "It is worse than I thought. With that many soldiers, we have no choice but to find an escape route."

Feeling her flesh prickle at his tone, Lily whispered, "How are you so sure that they will attack the Academy again?"

"That is precisely the point – I don't. But even so, I would rather be well on our way rather than be caught up in a battle that could have been avoided."

Lily stopped in her tracks. "We'll have to evacuate the _whole_ school?"

He squeezed her hand gently. "As much of it as possible. I'm afraid that the Festival will be rather dull this year without the students to run it."

**0-0-0-0-0**

The walls stood towering, old but firm, vines snaking their way between the cracks wherever there was a chance. Other than the sound of the wind blowing, there was silence in the courtyard.

There was a soft glow coming from the other side of the wall, illuminating the branches of trees that had lost all their leaves, and the snow that lay at the base of their trunks which had not yet melted away.

However, if one looked closely, several sets of footprints could be made out, littering the snow in bunches. They belonged to a group of five orphans – Iris, Cody, Blake, Victoria and Kanamaril (whom they fondly called Nam). Brothers and sisters they most certainly were not, and of their last names, well, there is no record. All that is known is that each of their parents had passed away, the sole fact that bound them together so tightly.

They can't have been more than 10 years of age if one chanced a look at them, but it was rare that anyone did, seeing as how they were dressed in rags and very homely.

In any case, the five of them had slipped out of the orphanage without permission and had ventured further than they had ever gone. Before they knew it, they had come up to the Palace walls.

Iris, the leader of their small group, took the initiative and led everyone over to them. "Can ye smell't?" she demanded, breathing in deeply. "They're roastin' summat there!"

"I don't think we should be here…" Cody, the youngest, said, through chattering teeth. He rubbed his small hands together in an effort to keep warm.

Nam scowled down at him. "Would you be quiet?"

Cody gave him a reproachful look. "If Mistress Salison catches us, she'll beat us good," he said.

"Oh, stop being sucher baby!" Iris snapped, reaching out to touch the cold surface of the stone wall before them. "We're only lookin' to have some adventure tha's all. What about it, Blake, Vic? Wanna help me ter see what's on th'other side?"

The last two children grinned and nodded eagerly, crowding around Iris who instructed them to lift her up onto the wall's edge by using their shoulders as a sort of stepping stone.

Cody watched as Blake and Victoria did as they were told, kneeling down and letting Iris clamber atop them. It took a while for the girl to make it, because the wall was much higher than she had anticipated, not to mention slippery because the bricks did not jut out and did not provide a good foothold.

At last, however, she stood triumphant at the top, her red hair blowing around her small, freckled face.

Unable to hold his breath any longer, Cody shifted in his spot and called, "Iris, really, you shouldn't…!"

Nam reached over and cuffed him hard behind one of his ears, causing the boy to stumble back with a short, clipped, cry. "Shut up, Cody! You're such a sissy!" To Blake and Victoria he ordered, "Push me up too!"

Obediently, the two did not question his bark because they both knew that Nam could get violent. Instead, they did as they were told, and soon, both Nam and Iris were standing at the top of the wall.

"What do you see?" Victoria demanded in a hushed hiss.

"You should see this place!" Nam called down. "It's huge!"

Iris turned to look down at them. "I'm goin' down ter get a closer look," she announced. "Y'all stay here and wait fer me!" And without waiting for them to respond, she took a mighty leap and disappeared on the other side completely. Nam, looking doubtful, hesitated for a moment before following her.

Cody turned frightened eyes to his remaining friends. "What if they're caught? We'll be in so much trouble!"

Blake returned an uneasy look. "They'll be fine," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "They won't get caught."

It wasn't two minutes after he said that when they heard shouts ring out over the wall, in the courtyard beyond. Scuffling and words that they didn't understand filtered out into the night, and through it all, they could hear Iris' distinct voice saying, "Let me go! I didn' do nothin'!"

"We should get out of here," Victoria whispered, turning to run. Cody was all ears for that suggestion, ready to bolt, but Blake shook his head adamantly.

"We can't leave Iris and Nam here!" he said.

Victoria looked like she was about to argue, but another voice cut her off before she could even begin to speak. It filled all three children with dread, making their blood freeze at the coldness of it.

It was a voice filled with pure evil.

"Take them. If any of them try to escape, kill them."

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN:** Aha, thanks to everyone who left me wonderful book recommendations! Unfortunately, I couldn't go out and get every one of them, but I did write each and every one of them down. Then, I hit the bookstore and I bought some of the ones I could find on the shelves. Don't worry, I plan to get the rest of them too, but in due time as my poor wallet is suffering quite a lot from my last bout with it.

I'm always open for new suggestions, and I am forever grateful to everyone for their enthusiasm in helping me out. You guys came through for me so much! You guys are the best!

Please leave me another review with your thoughts, recommendations, and criticisms if you would!

Thanks for reading, see you in two weeks,

-P.P.V.V.


	7. The First To Win

**OPTIVUS by P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies…_

* * *

AN: I'm sorry I'm late in posting, but alas, life got in my way. All right, all kidding aside: I really didn't mean to delay, so I hope you forgive me and enjoy this next installment.

Onward.

* * *

_Previously: _

_For the second time that day, Lily tugged at James' hand and asked him what was wrong. He cast her a haunted look. "It is worse than I thought. With close to 700 soldiers surrounding the school perimeters, we have no choice but to find an escape route."_

_Feeling her flesh prickle at his tone, Lily whispered, "How are you so sure that they will attack the Academy again?"_

"_That is precisely the point – I don't. But even so, I would rather be well on our way rather than be caught up in a battle that could have been avoided."_

_Lily stopped in her tracks. "We'll have to evacuate the __whole__ school?"_

_He squeezed her hand gently. "As much of it as possible. I'm afraid that the Festival will be rather dull this year without the students to run it."_

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**- The First To Win -**

Professor Slughorn brandished his pointer as he explained the physics concept that was written on the blackboard. His round face was always filled with excitement whenever he spoke of his favorite topic. The students, however, were not affected by his enthusiasm, most of them bent over their books with the pretense of being absorbed, but in truth, their eyes were wandering out the open windows to the sunny day beyond.

Today, the clear trill of the songbird could be heard, and it only meant one thing: Spring had arrived at last. And with it came the Festival that everyone was looking forward to. Preparations were almost complete, and the mood was light despite the amount of work they were expected to do.

"Mr. Longbottom, do you care to answer the question?" The Professor asked a tall gentleman that sat in the front seat. Sir Francis sat up straighter, his face coloring slightly at being caught writing a letter instead of paying attention. His hands clumsily rolled the parchment and stuffed it in his breast pocket before he rose to his feet.

"I beg pardons, Professor," he said, clearing his throat.

"You had better," Professor Slughorn replied, sternly. "Unless it is of utmost importance, I request that you save – romantic – affairs outside of my classroom, am I understood?"  
Staring straight ahead, Francis bowed slightly in shame before taking his seat.

Remus bit the end of his quill, oblivious to whatever was happening. Beside him, Lady Nymphadora took it upon herself to elbow him in the ribs, causing him to turn abruptly in his seat.

"Mr. Lupin, do you have something to add?" Professor Slughorn demanded, seeing Remus' startled jump.

Scrambling to his feet, Remus blurted, "No sir!" Nymphadora giggled at his predicament, and he squared his shoulders saying boldly, "I think I can answer the question, though."

A bright smile took the place of the scowl on Slughorn's face at that. "Well, I'd very much like it if you were to attempt," he held out a piece of chalk, beckoningly which Remus accepted.

With the Professor's instructions, he began to write the appropriate equation on the board, while the rest of the class watched him. It wasn't very often that Remus volunteered to do any sort of school work.

It came as a surprise to everyone when he actually got the answer right on his first try, and Remus felt a surge of pride himself: physics was his worst subject. Peter had always tried to teach him how it was supposed to be done, but he always seemed to be speaking a different language.

As he made his way back to his seat, he gave Nymphadora a toothy grin and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

It seemed as though, for a moment, that he did not stand disgraced. By now, it was known that he was under punishment for having broken the Academy rules. Of course, as a Marauder, he had seen his fair share of detentions.

Professor Slughorn had resumed the class and was speaking again, so Remus forced himself to pay attention, lest he get caught off-guard again and have to do another sample question - he was certain that his luck could only go so far in getting the correct answer a second time.

"As the Festival is in less than two weeks," the Professor announced, "I will not assign any major projects before it." The class broke into excited whispers at that, but the man held up his hand for silence and continued. "However, that does not mean any of you should fall behind on your studies. The final exam will not be easy, let me assure you."

Remus should have known not to get his hopes up.

The rest of the class went by rather quickly, and by the end of it, everyone left with more knowledge about Thermodynamics than they had gone in with. Even Remus felt as though he had actually learned something instead of becoming completely baffled with the numbers and theories.

With a sigh, he got to his feet slowly, listening to the Bell's Chimes ring out the noontime hour. A few people stopped to chat with him before they hurried away, eager to get their meals, leaving him and Nymphadora alone in the room together.

"My Lady, what's wrong?" he asked, when she did not make a move to get up from her seat. Instead, she was staring intently at the silver plate of the nametag on his book bag. The words _R.J Lupin_ were carved there in elaborate lettering.

She glanced up at last when he reached over and gently poked her forehead. He grinned down at her teasingly. "Are you quite all right?"

Nymphadora absently rubbed at her cheek with the back of her hand while she nodded.

But Remus was not convinced. He lowered himself back into his seat, putting his face closer to hers, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Nymphadora, what is it?"

His serious tone made her flinch slightly, and for a moment, she looked away. Alarm began to rise in him at that, and he grasped her hands, waiting for her gaze to return to his. He let out a questioning hum and tugged at her fingers coaxingly.

"I apologize…" she whispered, miserably.

"For what?" he asked. "I don't recall you having done anyth-"

"-I'm pregnant." Nymphadora blurted.

She felt his grip on her hands tighten at the news, and her brow wrinkled, the silence following her statement almost suffocating. This time, she tugged at his hand. "Remus…say something…"

"…Is…am…am I the father?" he stuttered at last.

Nymphadora leaned back slightly. "Of course you are."

If Remus wasn't sitting, he was certain he would have fallen over. He didn't know what to think. "How? I mean…" His mind was swirling. "Heavens…it was _that_ night? But…it was only once!" he cried.

Nymphadora's eyes filled with tears. She hated how his elated mood from earlier had disappeared so quickly. "I know," she sniffed. "I'm sorry…"

"When did you find out?" he demanded.

"Two weeks ago," she admitted. "Madam Pomfry told me that I must be two months along." At the bewildered look on his face, she added, "I didn't know how to tell you. I'm so sorry…"

Remus seemed to mentally slap himself. "Nymphadora, there is nothing to be sorry for."

She peered up at him, her dark eyes, which normally seemed to twinkle, troubled. It was the first time he noticed that rings lined the bottoms of them – proof of sleepless nights over this account. "Aren't you…upset?"

He seemed to pause before softly answering, "Yes, of course. But at myself, my Lady. I'm at fault and I beg your pardon. If I had only - "

Her kiss surprised him, cutting his lament off. "There's no point in wishing we could change the past," she told him, upon parting. "We must deal with the here and now." She freed one of her hands from his and placed it onto her still-flat stomach. "What shall I do?"

He stood, the sound of the chair scraping across the floor loud in the empty classroom. Funny how just a while ago he had been reveling in the fact that he could solve a physics question. Now, a bigger problem had landed itself into his lap and he didn't know the first place to begin.

They couldn't very well keep it a secret – there was no doubt that she would begin to show signs of pregnancy. At the same time, they hadn't even gotten married yet – becoming a father had been the last thing on his agenda.

"…Perhaps…well, Madam Pomfrey would refuse to do it, but there are nurses at Hogsmeade who specialize in…" Nymphadora had taken to twisting the hem of her school dress around her fingers as she trailed off. He frowned down at her, and while she hadn't said the whole sentence, he knew exactly what she was suggesting

"No," Remus practically snapped. "You will have the baby, Nymphadora! What you suggested will never be forgiven by the Lord." Her face seemed to crumple with his verdict and he eased himself back into his chair, taking her hands in his again. Nervously he squeezed them, trying to think.

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm frightened, Remus. What will our parents say? The shame we will bring upon our Households…!"

Remus nodded. "There is no doubt of that, but such is the way. We have to take responsibility for our actions. The baby is not at fault."

"And what about the Academy?" Nymphadora asked. "I fear what everyone will say of me."

He smiled. "Don't you worry about them, my Lady. No matter what they say I will never see you any differently." He gently pulled her into an embrace then. "Heavens, you must be so terrified. But we'll get through this together. I promise you."

She nodded, gratefully, against his shoulder, relaxing as his hands gently rubbed at her shoulders. She had been anxious about his reaction. Just hearing that he would stand by her and not abandon her was enough to make her burden feel lighter.

As if reading her thoughts, Remus said, "Don't tell me you thought that I would leave you?"

She let out a chuckle but it sounded more like a breathless sob in her ears. She felt his grip on her shoulders tighten. "I'm marrying you, my dear. And I'm going to be a wonderful father to that baby within you."

Nymphadora buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Remus…"

He rubbed at her back reassuringly. He decided not to bring up his greatest fear – having a child in the middle of a war would prove to be a problem.

_Oh, Lord, spare us all…_

**0-0-0-0-0**

The stables were not the most comfortable place to spend one's time in, but that's where James found himself at noon the next day. As it was a place where animals resided, the barn's smells were made up of hay, dust and dung.

Armed with a pitchfork, he helped the hired stable boys to haul hay stacks from one side of the barn to the other, where horses could have easy access to them. It was a pain enough to groom his horse during riding lessons, so he was fairly glad for his job – at least he didn't have to help with cleaning up after the animals.

The horses watched him work with bright eyes, and every once in a while, nickered in hopes of getting a morsel or two. It was hard to ignore them, and even harder to ignore the flies that surrounded them. Every once in a while, James had to swat them away and keep them from swarming around his face.

When break time rolled around, he was glad for it – the work had made him hungry. His muscles ached after bending down so often and he rubbed at them while he crossed the floor to put away his tools.

None of the other workers spoke a word to him. Maybe it was because he was a nobleman. Or maybe it was because they knew him to be under disgrace. Whatever the case, he climbed the loft to sit down for a moment and catch his breath, trying to ignore the grumble from his stomach. He would have to wait for food later, telling himself to bear the punishment because if he did not, it would show regret for his actions.

And he definitely didn't regret his actions. Not after finding out that the Academy could very well be attacked at any moment.

For the time being, Lily and James had agreed not to issue a major evacuation until he managed to find a way to sneak most (if not all) of the students out of the Academy without being seen by the Russian Army, and, for that matter, the King's Army.

He didn't know why, but he was feeling very suspicious of the King's Army. While he didn't have just grounds to be wary of them, he had decided not to be too trusting of them either. Until he met with the King face to face, he would not be at ease about anything.

But his time was running out, and his resources were limited.

_Is it really all right to be so worried?_ He wondered to himself, as he made to lie back onto a nearby pile of hay to do some brainstorming.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard footsteps coming up the ladder to the loft, and automatically, his hand went to his sword.

"Sir James, there you are!"

Surprised, he sat up fully, letting go of his weapon. "Lady Celena?"

Sure enough, the smiling the woman looked at him from the ledge. Her hair had been wound into a high ponytail, so that none of it touched her porcelain-like skin. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle when she saw him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling his legs up so that he could make some space for her.

"I read the notice on your door earlier," she told him, pulling herself up the rest of the way and coming around to sit next to him. At the Academy, it was custom that everyone be aware of a student's punishment. It served as a reminder and a deterrent for the others. "I thought you might like something to eat."

The mention of food made his mouth water. "This is no place for a Lady to be."

She held up a package that had been nicely wrapped. "Rosetta gathered it for you, so I'm sure you will be well fed." Her voice held a lilt of teasing in it, and James felt his cheeks grow red.

"Thank you, my Lady…" he said, taking the basket from her gratefully. "But please don't trouble yourself on my account. If the superiors were to hear you came here to visit me - "

"- I was told by the Lady McGonogall to bring you something urgent," Celena interrupted. She rummaged into her school bag and pulled out a white envelope. "It holds the Royal Seal."

That caught James' interest. He put the bundle aside and regarded the letter, almost reverently. Finally, news from the Palace! He had waited weeks for the response of the King to his request for audience. His first letter had gone unanswered all together, so he was glad to see that his second letter had gotten through.

Celena began to set it down on his lap, saying, "Perhaps I should leave you be…"

"No, dearest sister. Please stay," James said. He began to reach out and take her arm, but he realized that his hands were filthy and stopped. "If you would, do read it to me," he said, glancing down at his dirty fingers. "I shouldn't want to ruin His Majesty's penmanship."

The woman smiled slightly at that and rearranged her school skirts so that she was not sitting down directly on the rough wooden floor. "Very well, then, by your leave." She proceeded to break the seal and unravel the note within.

James held his breath, and she began.

_Addressing Sir James Harold Potter,_

_Peter the Third, by rightful decree in both law and the Heavens, by birth and by blood, King of England, do send greetings. _

_It was most unfortunate, the events from the months past. Such a tragedy has never befallen the Noble Houses, nor the prestigious Academy. For those that passed away, my heartfelt condolences go out to both family and friends. I feel it safer should the Treaty be returned within the Palace walls, so such a misfortune cannot be repeated again. _

_Regretfully, I was unable to respond to your first letter due to certain affairs of the Kingdom. As you may well know by now, the Philologi of the Court have been disbanded. Decisions must be made wisely and carefully, now. _

_In present times, our country has fallen under what seems a great shadow. I can do no less than what I deem is best for my people. It is with whom we stand loyal and faithful to, that matters in the end. _

_For your service and your regards, I am truly grateful. _

_ Signed with my hand,_

_ King Peter the Third_

"End quote," Celena finished.

"That's all?" James demanded.

"That's all."

"That can't be all," the man protested, bringing his knees up to his chest and twisting his head down so that he could see the letter.

She held it up. "There is no more written, sir." She turned it around again to herself when a look of shock wrote itself across James' face. "Whatever is the matter, brother?"

James seemed to be in his own world, however, and did not answer her right away. When he finally did, he had masked his expression carefully. "I guess…I guess I was just expecting the King to let us know something – anything – about the whereabouts of those people who are missing – Master Dumbledore, Sir Stevenson... Perhaps, even a little bit of information about the standing between England and Russia…" He picked up a piece of hay from the ground and began twirling it between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. His nails, he noticed, were lined with dirt as well, a feature that would have earned a rapping in any of his classes. It wouldn't do, after all, to have a nobleman looking so improper. "It's only fair that such matters are not disclosed to me. I am but a student in His Majesty's eyes."

"He entrusted you with Sir Peter's life," Celena pointed out, stoutly. "Evidently, he sees you as much more than that."

Her brother did not quirk a smile at that. Instead, he tossed the hay aside and turned to his meal. "I will read it again later. In the meantime, I must eat to gain strength and return to work to finish my humiliation."

He ate quickly, exchanging a few words with his sister before he heard the stable boys start up again. Reluctantly, James went down to join them and Celena returned to the Academy.

As she left, James thought back on the letter she had read aloud to him and his alarm grew as his suspicions were confirmed: there was trouble at the Palace.

If the Palace fell, then England would fall too.

And he knew that he would lose the race against time.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Peter lifted his face slightly to let the breeze catch his hair. It brought the scent of spring with it; the smell of flowers and budding trees met his nostrils and he sniffed eagerly. He could also tell that the rains were on their way, but it didn't matter to him because he enjoyed the feeling of being outside at last.

It felt like an eternity being holed up in the hospital's sick room. Day in and day out he was being told to rest and to take things easy. But he was tired of that. He wanted to be with the other children playing Cricket and running around, as he had done just months ago.

He was still a long way from being fully recovered, he knew, so all he could do was wait. Thankfully, Sirius was there to keep him company or else he knew he'd have broken down.

If anything, he felt guilty toward the older Gryffindor because he was forced to stay by his side when he could have been doing any number of things otherwise.

Peter felt someone nudge him gently on the back of the head. "If you're regretting anything, I'll be terribly disappointed."

Sirius, of course.

Bracing the wall, Peter turned to face his friend. "I thought you were sleeping?"

"I was. And when I woke up, you can imagine my fright at not being able to locate you."

Peter blushed. That was all the reprimand Sirius was going to give him for slipping out of the room without first informing anyone of his whereabouts, he knew. "I heard children…" he protested. "I heard them laughing." He turned again to face the balcony, his hospital robes swirling around his body as the wind playfully tugged at it. Tentatively, he stepped out onto the smooth stone and slowly shuffled across it, Sirius trailing not far behind. "The snow has cleared," he announced. And it was a good thing, too – Peter hated the snow. It made him miserable, cold, and more often than not, gave him a nasty illness that kept him off his feet for weeks at a time.

Sirius muttered something beneath his breath and Peter asked, "What?"

"I said that is precisely why I am concerned."

"If the snow has cleared, we can return to the Academy," the younger boy said, excitedly.

"Unfortunately, we can't," said Sirius, moving to stand next to him. "The Russian Army is everywhere. And James told me specifically that until we heard word from him, we were not to return. When the roads become useful again, I'm afraid there's nothing short of having a war on our hands."

"So, James saw this coming?" Peter demanded.

Sirius dipped his head once. "That James has a way of staying two steps ahead of the game all the time. But unless something is done, I'm afraid he might end up checkmate."

Peter looked out over the hospital's gardens, where a group of children had begun a game of tag. He realized with a pang of sadness that even if he could join them, he could not be as carefree. Not with what he knew – not with what was expected of him. "There must be some way to get word to him. I'm certain James is worried sick."

His friend let out a small huff of amusement and leaned his elbows back against the stone railing. He had pulled his dark locks back away from his face, in a ponytail in the similar fashion that Remus always wore his hair. While Sirius was a handsome man, the look did not become him at all. "With all the roads blocked and patrolled, it would be easier to face Professor McGonogall's wrath and get away with it than to sneak past those soldiers. Believe me," he added, "I have already tried.

"They're on the lookout for you. Word has spread that you are no longer within the Academy walls, and I suppose that James' farce could only hold so long, so that's understandable. Thus, all the more reason to keep you hidden."

Peter felt like throwing a tantrum, but instead, he sighed, wearily. If it really were a game, he knew they were on the losing edge. Had they always been on the losing edge ever since? So far, it seemed like they had only been running. When would they fight back instead of hiding away like cowards?

As if to read his mind, Sirius nudged him again. "We'll have our chance, yet, you'll see. Until the last man falls, I don't suppose England will declare defeat."

"I don't hold lightly with the thought that _I_ am the prize," Peter groused.

At that, Sirius laughed. "Nay, you should be honored."

At his friend's pained expression, Sirius got up, tugging Peter along. "I will figure a way to get word to James, I promise you, my lord. But for now, I beg you, do not worry yourself over these things."

"I can't help but," Peter said, sadly. "What kind of ruler hides away while his people suffer at the hands of brutes?"

"The kind that knows that in war, some sacrifices have to be made. And that staying alive to fight the winning battle the next day is more important."

Peter moved gingerly back into the hospital, swatting Sirius' helping hand away, almost impatiently. "Well, I hate it."

The hospital was a local one not too far from the Academy, probably a day's ride out, eight stories tall. Lucius Malfoy had been the one to find it and had arranged for Peter to have his surgery there – after all, it was better to keep the prize hidden right under the enemy's nose…the one place they wouldn't look first. So far, the ruse had worked, because the Russians were searching places that were further out. Sirius knew, however, that it would only be a matter of time before they started turning local.

The staff was friendly for the most part. Over the course of the two months, the boys had gotten to know some of them fairly well so that as they passed by, a few of them called out a greeting.

As an extra precaution, Sirius had not let them know of Peter's background, for fear that their situation might be revealed. He disliked how they always had to do things under cover, but it was better that way.

The floor that they had been assigned to was for those who were recovering from an illness or surgery, so it was not uncommon to see someone limping through the halls or going down them in wheelchairs. Sometimes there were those who dragged themselves against the walls the way Peter was doing now.

Sirius couldn't begin to imagine just how painful it was for his friend – not only physically, but mentally. He wished there was something more that he could do for him, but he could only stand by helplessly and watch. He could understand that Peter wanted to try and recuperate on his own, so he stood a few paces behind, watching as the smaller boy stopped for a moment or two to gather his breath before moving again. He turned down the left corridor, opposite to his room.

"Peter…"

"I'm hungry," Peter announced, his voice wheezing. "I shall take my lunch downstairs today."

"Perhaps it would be best if the nurses brought it to your bedside instead."

This time, Peter stopped and turned to glare over his shoulder. "I shall take my lunch downstairs." His tone spoke of no refute, and Sirius considered arguing but decided against it.

"Very well, on the condition that you at least let me help you."

"I'm fine," was the stubborn reply. At Sirius' disapproving frown, Peter lowered his gaze, knowing that he had hurt his friend's feelings. "Please, Sirius…I want to try…I want to be proud of the fact that I made it there by myself."

Sirius looked over his shoulder for a moment before saying, "I'll be right behind you if you need my assistance, my lord."

He had to be strong.

He had to be strong for his country.

A cripple for a king? No, he wouldn't have that. He _couldn't_.

Surely Sirius understood that.

Each step was a chore, but Peter had learned how to curb the pain and exhaustion and push himself a little further day by day. Aside from his physical therapy sessions, he grabbed the opportunity to practice whenever he was sure Sirius was out of the room.

As he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, he tried to think about what he would do once he was fully recovered.

_Run._

Yes, definitely run.

The last time he had run was during Madam Hooch's class ages ago, before the Masquerade. He was already beginning to forget what it felt like.

A nurse walked by and offered him a wheelchair which Peter flatly refused to use. She was about to insist, but gave up quickly – most probably because Sirius had given her a forbidding look. She left them alone, after that, and it can't be denied that Peter was a little resentful.

What would have taken a normal person to do in less than five minutes, took him almost half an hour. His leg muscles were hurting so badly that he shook, his grip on the railing by the wall tight but slippery because his hands were sweaty with the effort of keeping his balance. Suddenly, he wished he had listened to Sirius about having his lunch in his room, but now his friend was a silent shadow behind him, who did not voice his opinion again.

Peter knew that was why James had asked Sirius to accompany him, because unlike the other Marauders, Sirius did not mother nearly half as badly. For that, Peter was both grateful and disappointed; a part of him wanted Sirius to stop him already – the pain was becoming too much.

Just when he thought he absolutely could not bear it any longer, they reached the elevators. It was then that Sirius decided to speak.

"Peter."

His tone was raised slightly at the end, indicating a question-of-sorts, quietly and simply so that the younger boy could take his statement in whatever way he chose.

Sucking air through his mouth and trying to make his voice sound strong and confident, Peter answered, "I'll be okay." Inwardly, he cursed his stubborn pride. Why couldn't he just ask for help?

But Sirius caught the hint in his drained tone. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Aghast, Peter shot him a mortified look. It was one thing to be wheeled around, but it was another thing to be carried.

Seeing his expression, Sirius chuckled. "I'll be right back." And without further ado, his friend was off down the white-washed hallways, in his easy, loping stride, returning briefly with the wheelchair the nurse had offered before.

Without a word, Sirius helped Peter pry himself from the wall and sit down gently in the thin leather seat. It supported his weight easily and as soon as he was off his feet, the boy let out a sigh of relief.

He knew that if James had been the one with him, he would have been berated severely for his stubbornness, but he was glad when Sirius casually overlooked that fact, beginning to comment on the food choices of the day – another way in which the older Gryffindor tried to ease his feeling of inadequacy.

As they traveled downward, Peter listened to the sound of his friend's voice, not really hearing what was said as he tried to gather his bearing and wait for the pain to subside completely. He gave the occasional response just so that Sirius would know that he hadn't fainted or anything, and by the time they reached Hospital's cafeteria, his legs were numb: a good sign, he supposed.

Sirius excused himself to get them some food, leaving Peter seated at one of the long, unsurprisingly, white tables. There were very few people in the cafeteria at the time because it was past the lunch hour, and he didn't feel like watching any of them, so he stared down at his hands in his lap, wondering when they would stop shaking and if he could feed himself properly at all because of it.

He was quite startled when someone sat next to him, suddenly. He was surprised to see a boy his age looking at him curiously.

He possessed the strangest eyes Peter had ever seen – they were a clear purple color, and he found himself wondering whether or not he used contacts the way James did, and he realized with a jolt that he missed his friend fiercely.

After a moment or two, Purple Eyes grinned. "Aren't you going to go eat something?"

Peter returned his gaze to his lap and did not respond. The overwhelming feeling of shyness hit him as it always did, with newcomers. He clenched his shaking hands into fists.

"You all right, there?" Purple Eyes demanded.

Again, Peter did not reply, wanting this stranger to just go away.

He was relieved when he heard Sirius' cool authoritative voice interrupt them. "And who, pray tell, is this?" There was a certain wariness that Peter could detect – of course, they could trust no one.

Without looking up, Peter bit out the words that he knew would offend. "He's a _commoner_." He made the word sound as disgusting as he could, and did not check to see Purple Eyes' reaction to it.

It was a word he grew up knowing was beneath him.

A word that always reminded him of what he was.

A word that would one day make him stronger.

He hoped.

**To Be Continued….**

* * *

AN: Again, I apologize for the delay in posting. I really appreciated all the feedback I received and I am curious to know what everyone thinks of the events in this chapter. The pace should pick up from here on in (I hope) but that all depends on the course that my imagination decides to take.

Until the next update, thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	8. Titles:::

**OPTIVUS by P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies._

* * *

**AN:** Dear goodness, I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to update. My most sincere apologies! The month of August was a nightmare of events one after another, not to mention a time wherein my imagination cramped in on itself.

After the third attempt at this chapter (and finally, no more scrapping of material) I finally have something I hope is worthwhile for you to read.

That said, onward to Peter's past.

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

**- Titles -**

Not for the first time that day, he found his head pushed between his knees as he tried to calm the spinning room. His stomach was lurching in every direction and he desperately tried to control it by clearing his mind.

He should have been used to it by now.

When the queasiness subsided a little, he slowly lifted his head and took deep breaths, going through the normal procedure.

Beside him, Dr. Fiorelli smiled encouragingly. "Would you like some water, Your Highness?"

"Do I look that bad?" Peter asked, finding the strength to smile weakly. His arm hurt where the skin had been pinched when receiving his medication.

The doctor simply flashed him a grin in response, handing him a glass and advising him to drink it slowly.

The water was cool and refreshing, making the room finally right itself and he was able to breathe easier. The dizzy spell, always brought about by the sight of syringes and blood, was beginning to fade completely.

With a sigh, Peter handed the glass back. "I don't suppose I will be allowed outside today, again, will I?"

At that, Dr. Fiorelli frowned and shook his head. "I'm afraid I must ask you to refrain from doing so. We must have you up on your feet during your celebration."

Well, it hadn't hurt to ask.

Still, the sunlight pouring in from the four huge ceiling-to-floor windows made him all the more wistful. He wanted to be outdoors, perhaps doing some horseback riding, or exploring. He loved exploring. His father didn't approve of him tangling himself in the gardens and getting dirty, though, so he didn't have a chance to do that very often.

As to the celebration that was mentioned, his father had decided to throw him a party because he was turning five and two years at last. The event was only a few days away and preparations were already in the process when flu-like symptoms decided to pay a visit on the young prince.

Seeing Peter's crestfallen expression, the doctor patted his shoulder. "A bit of sun, perhaps," he allowed, and at that, Peter perked up eagerly. "However," the doctor added, "you must be under supervision."

Huh. When wasn't that ever a condition?

His father would have a fit if he wandered anywhere alone, so he agreed to the terms quickly.

It ended up that 'a bit of sunlight' meant merely staying on the balcony that connected to his rooms. Peter guessed he shouldn't complain since the heat on his skin was a heavenly feeling.

Like always, his recovery time was slow and grueling, so he took every second he could to relish in the freedom outside. Behind him, his nurse, Madam Kali, stood, patiently watching and waiting, and behind her stood the ever present guards that were posted everywhere within the Palace.

Glancing down below at the gardens, Peter was sure there was not a more beautiful sight. In the sunlight each color looked brilliant and in the breeze, all the flowers and blossoms seemed to be waving at him genially from their places in the ground.

His father loved beauty, and so, the Palace was always being decorated with new articles: statues, paintings, carvings…they were everywhere and each piece was tasteful in its own unique way. Over the course of his life, Peter had come to appreciate the beauty of each (but it must be confessed that his own ability to create a work of art was next to nothing). The outside gardens were just the same, and he never tired of looking at them as he did now.

When it was time to go back inside, Peter masked his disappointment and followed Madam Kali obediently.

Back inside his chambers there was nothing else to do but read; his tutors had been instructed to let him rest so that without lessons, the day went by excruciatingly slow. Unfortunately for him, Peter had already read every book within his immediate chambers – the majority of them twice over – so he found himself quite restless.

It was a relief for him when Madam Kali came in with a new one under her arm. She must have guessed at his boredom.

"My lord, are you looking forward to your celebration?" she asked, by way of light conversation.

Peter didn't answer right away, taking the book from under the crook of his nurse's arm. It was just how he liked it: big, heavy and filled with many pages. He didn't just read books – no, he _ate_ them from cover to cover. His rooms alone consisted of three libraries, which he frequented quite often.

_Lineage_, the title of the leather bound book read.

Fingers trailing the binding, Peter finally responded, "I suppose…"

"It's high time you spoke with children your age," the Madam said. "You spend too much time alone, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you," Peter said, in a huff.

Madam Kali didn't seem the least put off by Peter's response. Instead, she smiled and said, "It's okay to be shy. I'm sure you'll find someone who will respect you not for _what_ you are, but _who_ you are."

Peter almost snorted, but he refrained from doing so because it was not a very gentlemanly thing to do. He had read enough to know that people were classed into two categories. The first were the type to take advantage of anyone in power, trying to build strong relationships for their own benefit in the future. The second were the type who feared the power and groveled before it in hopes that they would not be harmed.

It wasn't that he didn't want to make friends. It was that the other children didn't want to be friends with _him_. They seemed to be afraid of him when they learned of his position.

His title.

He guessed he didn't quite look the part of a Prince. After all, he had a round face and small eyes and a head full of light hair, his features somewhat homely. He looked underfed and pale, but that was not because he did not eat, but because he was always sick with one thing or another. Princes were supposed to look strong, tall, and healthy on their brave stallions.

As it was, he couldn't even remember the last time he had ridden his horse.

Realizing that his nurse was waiting for him to say something, Peter mumbled, "I hope so."

Seeming to sense his apprehension, Madam Kali excused herself and left the room so that he could read in peace.

She came back two hours later to find him slumped over his book, fast asleep, his hands splayed over the page that depicted the lines of the Royal House.

His name, of course, had not been written because his title had yet to be bestowed onto him.

King Peter the Fourth.

**0-0-0-0-0**

He had escaped to the privacy of the stone yard, just beyond the main gardens, where the other children played a game of hide-and-seek.

For some reason, Peter felt like he was too old to join in. From where he sat, on a low bench made of the same cold stone as the yard, he could hear the music and chatter coming from within the Palace as the adults enjoyed the celebration thrown on his behalf. He could also hear the children's laughter and pattering of feet float out to taunt him.

He didn't seem to fit either world, and he was tired of trying. He was certain that he could wait out the majority of the night just seated there without anyone noticing his disappearance. Parties weren't really his favorite past time because he was always being fussed over and bowed and scraped to, and all the while, he was forced to keep a pleasant smile on his face and answer accordingly.

Despite what Madam Kali had told him about making friends, he found he did not have the courage to speak with any of the children who were his age. It was just like his father to invite the whole of England.

He sighed.

And then it all happened so fast, that Peter didn't even see it coming. From out of nowhere, a ball hit him square in the forehead, nearly knocking him off his perch on the bench. His robes, elaborate and long, snagged onto the edge of the seat, helping to balance him as he let out a clipped cry of pain and surprise.

Head spinning, Peter blinked a few times before he was aware of someone speaking with him.

"Are you all right?"

A boy with wavy brown hair knelt next to him, the tucking the accursed ball under his arm by his side.

"My apologies! I didn't mean to hit you…" The boy was speaking, his voice a low thrum, as if in consideration to his still-spinning head.

Peter had half a mind to throw a tantrum, but he realized that he was too tired to put up any sort of unmannerly show. Instead, he reached a hand up to probe at the assaulted spot and was not surprised to feel that it was swelling.

Another voice suddenly joined the conversation; Peter hadn't even noticed there were two of them. "Perhaps I should go get some ice." This one had a head full of dark, unruly hair and a set of sophisticated-looking glasses. He didn't wait for a response and ran back to the Palace to do just as he had suggested.

"Would you like to go inside?" The first boy asked him, sounding genuinely concerned.

Finally managing to find his voice, Peter shook his head. "N-no…"

The boy frowned. "Are you sure?" He shifted in his position to peer at the spot on Peter's forehead. "It doesn't look too bad. It's a good thing I didn't kick it too hard."

"Yes, it's a good thing," Peter agreed. He didn't look forward to explaining to his father how he had gotten injured. Maybe the swelling would go down.

Seeming to read his mind, the boy gave him an apologetic look. "I really didn't mean to hit you, sir. I will take full responsibility for it."

"Very well, what is your name?" Peter demanded.

Taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor, the boy answered, "Sirius Black," almost amused.

"Son of Phineas Black?"

There was a short pause before Sirius answered, "…Yes…how do you know my father?"

"Your ancestry line is quite intricate," Peter told him. "Did you know you were named after the very first of your kin to be dubbed a nobleman?"

Sirius looked surprised. "Yes, I'm well aware of that. However, you didn't answer my first question. How do you know my father?"

"I know your entire household," was Peter's eager reply. "I have it memorized."

He proceeded to tap his temple.

Now Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Whatever for?"

Blushing, Peter looked down at his lap, choosing not to answer that question. Instead he said, "It doesn't hurt as much." Referring to the bump, of course. "Don't worry, I shan't sell you out."

The taller boy hummed in response, clearly baffled by the way Peter kept changing his subjects.

Well, two could play that game.

"It's disrespectful to give one's own name and not get one in return," Sirius told him, deciding to drop the last topic and start a new one. "If I may ask, sir, for an acquaintance at the least?"

At that, Peter bit his lip. Would it be prudent to tell him? So far, Sirius had not cast him any judgmental glances. The pretense would be futile in the end, he knew, but he wanted very badly for his identity to remain a secret so long as he could keep the conversation flowing. "You may call me Peter," he said, at last, hoping the boy would not press for any more information.

"That is a rather cropped name, don't you think, sir?" Sirius asked, lightly. At Peter's hollow stare, he smiled reassuringly. "Very well. By your leave, I shall call you only by the name you have given me."

"I appreciate it, thank you."

"May I ask you another question, then?"

Hesitating for a moment, Peter nodded again.

"Why are you out here all by yourself? Why aren't you with your friends?"

"I haven't got any friends, Sir Sirius."

Well, that was so straight forward that it caught the elder boy off guard. "Why don't you go and join the games, then?"

"I'm afraid I'm too shy," Peter answered, truthfully. "Besides, they would not want me to play with them."

"Why not?"

"Do you suppose all six hundred and ten of the noble houses are represented tonight?" Peter asked, changing the subject abruptly again, not liking where the conversation had started to turn.

He expected Sirius to make a face at the way he decided to switch the subject once more, and was surprised when the elder boy merely let out a chuckle. "I would wager – it's the Prince's birthday after all. We've a duty to pay homage to even His Highness."

Peter felt his lips twitch in a smile. "What do you know of the Prince, Sir Sirius?"

Sirius scrutinized him for a moment, trying to think of the response Peter was looking for. And then, he did what Peter least expected him to do: he reached over and ruffled his hair between his fingers. He didn't know whether to be upset or to be stunned. No one – not even his nurse – dared to do something like that. He found himself staring aghast as the elder boy laughed heartily.

"Well, I don't know much about His Highness," said Sirius, brightly. "But I _do _know that he's not the selfish, spoiled brat that people might think him to be. He tends to switch topics too quickly and speaks in a way that leaves his age undefined." He paused for a minute, tilting his head to the side. "Does that accurately define you, my lord?"

It was as though Peter had received a punch in the stomach, and he turned his wide eyes in wonder at Sirius, feeling, for the first time, completely dumbfounded. How on earth…? The only thing he could think of to say was, "How...how long have you known…?"

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows apologetically. "I didn't – James did. The moment we saw you he grew upset that we had injured one of the Royal House."

Peter waved that away and asked, "James? Your friend?"

"James Potter, son of Sir Alan Potter," Sirius confirmed. "He recognized you at once. I must admit that I had my doubts. Please, forgive my earlier impertinence."

The Prince waited for the bowing and scraping to come but was relieved when it didn't. "It was an accident. I don't hold it against you, sir."

"You have my thanks, then, my lord," Sirius said, gratefully. "All the same, I want to let you know that your injury was not the present the Black Household intended to give you."

The sentence got the desired effect as the Prince broke into a giggle. "I'm sorry I deceived you," Peter told him. "You must understand that I am not able to make acquaintances very easily."

Sirius settled himself down on the bench next to him, another thing that pleased Peter because no normal person would have done so.

"I have a question for you, Sir Sirius."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Do you feel awkward at all talking to me like this?" Sirius could hear the sad note in Peter's tone.

"Awkward?" Sirius repeated. "No, I don't suppose I do." He winked and nudged Peter playfully. "Unless, you would rather I didn't?"

At that, Peter vigorously shook his head.

That was when James returned with, it must be confessed, more than enough ice than was necessary for Peter's small, diminishing bump.

His unruly black hair was windswept with his running. "I apologize for my delay: I was forced into acquaintances with the House Falco. It seems their son Aesalon shares the same birth date as our beloved Prince." He proceeded to hand the package of ice over to Peter.

"Your Highness, Sirius' aim is very accurate," James said, confirming Sirius' earlier statements that James had indeed figured out Peter's true identity, "it's just that I am a hard target to strike. If I had known you were behind me, I would not have dodged at all."

"James, old chap, I _let_ you get away," Sirius said, feigning disdain at the thought of missing anything. "It was just my excuse to meet a member of the Royal House."

"Yes, by hitting him," said James, dryly, and that caused everyone to laugh.

Peter expected them to leave after that, but it surprised him when the two did not move from their spots and continued to talk with him, perfectly at ease as though they had known him for years.

Even more surprisingly, Peter felt completely comfortable, not at all shy the way he usually was with strangers.

They asked him questions about his favorite foods, his favorite sports, even his favorite flavor of parfait. When Peter had recovered from his initial shock, he also began to ask questions, his words tripping over themselves in his excitement that he had at last, found some decent people to talk to that night.

Neither James nor Sirius seemed to mind, though, or even recognize his strange enthusiasm as he jumped from subject to subject in an effort to find out all about them.

He learned that they were four years older than he was, and that they attended H.W. Academy – the most prestigious school for the Noblemen in England. He also learned that they loved to play jokes on people whenever they could, and they assured him that tonight's accident was not part of the list they had planned.

"And what about you?" James asked, crossing his legs under him. He had settled himself on the grass and was now absently ripping up handfuls of blades in his fists. "There are rumors that you don't like the outdoors and that you are so irritable they keep you locked away in your rooms."

Peter had a hard time keeping the scowl from coming onto his face. Rumors. How Noble-like. "You would be irritable too, if all you were expected to do was rest."

At their puzzled looks, Peter instantly wished he could take back his words.

James, whom Peter had learned to be very perceptive, asked bluntly, "Are you sick?"

Peter tried to smile, but he supposed it looked more like a grimace. "I've problems with my liver. Along with a few other health issues," he added on an after thought. He didn't bother to list the rest of the complications as he looked down at his fingers which had begun to twist the hem of his elaborate robes. The material was a rich red color, patterned with embroidered Phoenix feathers, the symbol for long life – a present from the House Malfoy.

When no one spoke for a long moment, Peter sighed, not wanting to look up because he was afraid to see what he always saw: eyes that looked at him as though he were an invalid, someone who should be pitied. But when he finally did raise his head, he was surprised to see both Sirius and James staring at him with rapt attention, curiosity plainly written across their faces.

"What say, gentlemen? Leaving me all alone in the courtyard!" A new voice called, before either could speak. It sounded playfully affronted.

Both boys jumped up, guilty looks falling over their faces. "Remus…" Sirius breathed, and James made a sound that indicated that he, too, had forgotten all about their other friend.

Remus came around the garden hedges then, and Peter saw that he was taller than the other two, his gold-brown hair tied back at the base of his neck, resting against the off-white color of his shirt. He carried himself in a different manner – more sure, his chin held high proudly, his back straighter. It was his eyes, however, that gave away his mischievous personality, and he trained his gaze on the three of them.

"We had a little accident," Sirius thought to explain.

"A new acquaintance of yours?" Remus asked, settling his eyes on Peter.

"Ah…" Sirius stepped sideways and held his hand out in a gesture of introduction. "This is…His Highness." He turned to see Remus sweep into a formal bow. "Remus Lupin, son of Cyath Lupin - just in case you wanted to know," Sirius told Peter.

"A pleasure," Remus said, a hint of reverence in his voice, but for some reason, it didn't bother Peter as much as it usually did. After all, he supposed, it wasn't every day one met a Prince.

Feeling shy for the first time that night in the company that surrounded him, Peter ducked his head, words failing him.

James laughed, seeing his reaction. "Don't worry about Remus," he said, lightly. "He doesn't bite."

"Not hard, anyway," Remus smoothly added. "I hope you haven't been talking about me without my knowledge."

"No, we were just having a chat with the Prince," Sirius told him, as though that were a normal activity on his part.

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's time to leave…" Remus said. "The night is not so young any more."

The moment Peter had been dreading had come at last, and he gripped the edge of the stone bench he was sitting on tightly. "You're going?" He heard himself ask, in a small, disappointed voice.

"We must, your Highness," Remus told him, apologetically, "though I wish it weren't the case. I would have liked to share in your company as well."

Peter's fingers began to hurt with the way he was clutching the stone. "But I will see you all again, won't I?" The thought of loneliness threatened to crush him.

"You have but to command it," James reassured him.

Sirius knelt so that he was face to face with the younger boy. "Don't look so down, my lord. We will meet again soon, I promise you. That is, if your Lord Father will allow you an audience."

Peter nodded, slightly comforted by the thought. There would be no problem, he was sure of it.

The boys began to walk back toward the courtyard, but Sirius paused a few steps away, turning to face him. "Happy Birthday, Your Highness. I hope you like my gift."

It turned out that it was a telescope, three feet in length, made of pure gold. It stood on a magnificent stand and his name had been embossed onto the body of it. Peter was thrilled with the gift – he had always loved the stars.

But he had already received the greatest gift of all.

Friendship.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Peter turned when a servant entered and knelt before him. He was a Messenger, from the way a leather satchel that bore the crest of the Royal House was slung from his left shoulder and rested by his right hip.

"Speak," Peter commanded, and the man bobbed his head.

"Your Highness, His Majesty requests an audience with you, immediately," the Messenger reported.

Peter blinked. Usually, his father would come to see him personally instead of calling him down during the middle of the day. That he was interrupting his usual Court session, with a Summon of all things, was proof that the matter to be discussed was very serious indeed.

"I would have the note," Peter said, unable to keep his curiosity from leaking into his voice.

Obediently, the Messenger reached into his satchel to produce the statement, handing it to Peter in a reverent fashion.

"Thank you, you may leave now," Peter said, absently, tapping the parchment with his fingers worriedly.

The Messenger hesitated, before bowing his head again and exiting the room.

Once he was gone, Peter broke the seal on the scroll and scanned the sheet. Unfortunately, there was no reason to the Summon at all. It merely stated that should he be so considerate, would he make his presence known in the Throne Room at the immediate time upon which he received the letter.

Frowning, he rolled it up again, wishing he had asked the Messenger for some more information, but it was already too late because the man was gone.

A part of him wanted to ignore the note all together – Peter held a certain grudge against his father at the moment because he had suddenly forbid his friends to visit. The explanation had been vague, something due to the fact that they were negative influences on him.

Whatever that meant.

As far as Peter was concerned, James, Sirius and Remus had made his life far more interesting than it had ever been. They had taught him how to play cricket and how to climb walls. With James, he had delightful debates about politics and fervent discussions about strategy in certain situations. It had taken a while to get over the fact that he would not always be right, and, under James' tutelage, he began to think things through from different angles. With Sirius, conversations usually tended to be about people and sports while Remus was a ball of jokes and entertainment.

He missed them fiercely. Since their dismissal from the Palace grounds, Peter had resumed his monotonous days alone, burying himself in the comfort of his books, his condition steadily getting worse as he pined away for them.

Yes, he was sorely tempted to refuse the Summon.

But he knew that if he didn't respond, his father would probably think something terrible had happened to him.

The thought of going down to the Court was nauseating. If there was one thing Peter disliked, it was putting on the grand airs in front of an audience. While he should have been used to doing so by now, he still felt awkward about it. He would much rather talk to his father in private, where all the rituals could be skipped.

With a sigh, he called in his attendants and asked them to help him dress, for it would not do to announce himself wearing plain clothing. Royal Robes were always donned within the Throne Room by the members of the Royal House.

In moments, despite all the articles and accessories, Peter was ready to go, clad fully in gold garments, accentuated with bits of red and white peaking through the folds and layers. His sash was cinched a bit too tightly around his waist and this he twisted until he could breathe more comfortably before he made his way down the stairs.

Wherever he passed, people dipped him courteous bows and as usual, he ignored them. He really disliked it whenever he received unwanted attention. Could one not go to see one's own father without all the excitement? He was glad when he reached the doors to the Throne Room and spoke with the Heralder, showing him the Summon.

It was a few moments more before Peter was ushered inside, and all those present within the room turned their eyes on him as he stood on the threshold, trying to hold his head high.

There, at the end of the long, red carpet, on a raised platform, stood three thrones, one of which was occupied by a woman – his Lady mother. His father stood just in front of the middle-most throne, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting.

"Your Majesties, may you live long and prosper!" Peter bid, bowing formally, once he reached the end of the aisle.

"And you, Your Highness," the King replied, heartily.

"I have come at your request, my lord," said Peter. It must be confessed that his voice sounded bitter, and that he could not look his father in the eye.

The King seemed to pause for a second, meeting his wife's gaze before clearing his throat and saying, "You're probably wondering why I called you down here. Well, you are to pack your bags and leave the Palace once you are done doing so."

At that, Peter straightened. _Leave?_ Had he done something wrong? Maybe it was because of their last argument…or maybe it was because his health wasn't getting any better. In confusion, he took a step forward. "But…I…"

But the King interrupted him, gently. "Peter, I'm not banishing you. I'm merely sending you to a place that I think will be…" again, he glanced at his wife who smiled back, encouragingly, before finishing, "beneficial for you."

In a small voice, Peter repeated, "Beneficial?"

"We are sending you to school, my love." His mother spoke for the first time, her smile widening slightly. Her voice was just as beautiful as the rest of her. Like him, she had a round face and hair that was fair, shimmering a golden-white around her shoulders. "We would like you to enjoy new experiences."

In disbelief, Peter demanded, "School?"

"Would you not to like to make new friends?" the Queen asked.

Friends.

"I've already made friends," the boy said, heatedly. If this was their way of making him come out of his misery, well, they were going about it all wrong. He didn't want new friends: he wanted James, and Sirius, and Remus.

The King seemed to get the hint. "It was they that convinced me that this path was the best for you, that within the walls of H.W. Academy, your potential would grow."

At that, his wife laughed. "And my goodness how they insisted upon your release! They requested an audience with your father nearly every hour of every day, you know."

They had?

But his mother was not done musing yet. "At first your father would not hear of it, but eventually, they won him over to the idea."

Even the King seemed amused by the memory because the corners of his mouth were tugging upward as well. "Sir James and Sir Sirius seemed adamant that you join them."

"But I am not of age, yet!" Peter said, his thoughts all in a blur. "And what of my title?" He toyed with the thought of the young noblemen and noblewomen who would distance themselves from him as though he bore a plague, and shuddered.

His father answered that question, though all traces of his emotions were masked quite efficiently. "You will register under a different name. I've had words with the Headmaster, and I'm sure you will be placed appropriately."

Still feeling as though things were too good to be true, Peter asked skeptically, "And what of my health?"

"Madam Pomfrey is known to be one of the best nurses in all of England," Matheson replied. "You will, of course, have attendants with you. And you will be watched every minute of the day."

Aghast, Peter couldn't help but make a face. "Guards?"

This time, the voice that answered that question was different, and Peter spun on his heels to face James, whom he had not noticed, kneeling to the side just a little ways away from the rest of the crowd. Sirius was beside him, and discreetly, he grinned up at Peter and winked. "No, my lord. I think being inconspicuous would be the best sort of protection. Having guards will only cause people to question your background. I have given my word to your Lord Father that I shall make sure no harm comes to you while you are away from home, even if I have to lay my own life down for your protection."

"Sir James has thought it out very carefully," the King told Peter, grudgingly. "I see no reason why I should not give you your greatest desire."

Peter was speechless as he turned things over in his mind. He was going away. He was going to be free. It was all too much to hope for: surely there was a catch. "I would know your conditions, Your Majesty," he said, at last.

The King moved over a few steps to stand next to his Lady who slipped her hand in his. Whether it was a gesture of confidence on his behalf or merely for encouragement on hers, Peter didn't know. What he did know was that a look of raw fear and worry passed through both their eyes at that moment. "The conditions, Your Highness, are that you are to return to the Palace immediately if your health turns for the worse. I will leave that judgment to Madam Pomfrey, of course."

Still feeling around for any holes in the agreement, Peter nodded and asked, "Is that all?"

"Do you not wish to go, my son?" His mother asked.

"I…"

"You are free to join your friends if you wish. If it makes you happy, then we wish for nothing more," Matheson assured him.

Peter nodded, solemnly, a rush of happiness surging through him, making his whole body tingle in excitement. Without thinking, he launched himself up the steps and threw his arms around his father, his childish laughter ringing through the room, knocking the elder man back two steps.

"Oh, Father! Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Everyone in the Court watched in amusement as the King tried to right himself again. It made them grin at the way Peter seemed more enthusiastic than normal. When Matheson was finally able to pry himself loose, he set Peter back and knelt so that he was face to face with his son. "I will pray for your safety, but you must be obedient and well behaved for these gentlemen. I am, after all, putting you in their care."

"Yes, sir."

"And you will do your best to learn everything you can, while you are away."

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Matheson gazed at his son, proudly. It was a known fact that the man adored his son more than anything in the world. "You will learn a great many new things. Always remember that those below you are the ones you are going to lead and take care of. They are the ones that will give you strength to do what you must and the wisdom to decide what is right."

Peter nodded again, saying, "Yes, Father." And with no more words left to say, he hugged the elder man fiercely and bid farewell to his Lady Mother.

**0-0-0-0-0**

No bowing.

No scraping.

No titles.

_Normal._

Peter found himself at the Academy, standing in front of an audience who watched him with open curiosity. It was just as James had foretold – no one recognized him. He cleared his throat to introduce himself.

He was under a spotlight again, but this time, he didn't mind at all.

"My name is Peter…Pettigrew. It's nice to meet you all."

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN:** I know some of you were surprised at the ending of the last chapter. Peter does not dislike the general public, more that he is afraid of anyone ever finding out his identity. I hope that cleared things up slightly.

Again, I apologize for the late update. The next one won't be so long in coming, I promise, even though school is back (and I hope everyone is enjoying it so far!) I hope to bring relief from it with a chapter or two this month. While you wait, please do leave me a review, and thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	9. Assumptions

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…_

* * *

**AN:** As promised, another chapter for everyone before the month ends. Thank you for your patience and for your continued support for this story.

_Previously: _

_Peter sat down at one of the long, unsurprisingly, white tables. There were very few people in the cafeteria at the time because it was past the lunch hour, and he didn't feel like watching any of them, so he stared down at his hands in his lap, wondering when they would stop shaking and if he could feed himself properly at all because of it. _

_He was quite startled when someone sat next to him, suddenly. He was surprised to see a boy his age looking at him curiously. _

_He possessed the strangest eyes Peter had ever seen – they were a clear purple color, and he found himself wondering whether or not he used contacts the way James did, and he realized with a jolt that he missed his friend fiercely._

_After a moment or two, Purple Eyes grinned. "Aren't you going to go eat something?"_

_Peter returned his gaze to his lap and did not respond. The overwhelming feeling of shyness hit him as it always did, with newcomers. He clenched his shaking hands into fists. _

_"You all right, there?" Purple Eyes demanded._

_Again, Peter did not reply, wanting this stranger to just go away. _

_He was relieved when he heard Sirius' cool authoritative voice interrupt them. "And who, pray tell, is this?" There was a certain wariness that Peter could detect – of course, they could trust no one. _

_Without looking up, Peter bit out the words that he knew would offend. "He's a commoner." He made the word sound as disgusting as he could, and did not check to see Purple Eyes' reaction to it. _

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**- Assumptions -**

Purple Eyes' face was blank at Peter's harsh, mocking words. But instead of turning away and leaving them alone as Peter had hoped, the boy leaned closer. "Actually, I have Noble blood in me."

That caught both Sirius and Peter's attentions.

Someone from the Academy? If so, they had never seen his likes before.

"I would have your name, sir," the latter demanded.

A smirk of surprise played at the corner of the boy's mouth at Peter's commanding tone. "Seth Bailey."

Peter leaned back in his seat. "That is impossible – the Bailey's have only one child in their lineage."

Seth nodded, turning his purple eyes to table in front of him and picking at the white paint on the wood. "You're talking about the Lady Alice, aren't you?" His lips turned up into a small smile at the name. "She's my cousin – my father married outside of the Noble kin and was disowned when he…had me."

Peter wasn't surprised to hear it: the practice of marrying within the Noble Houses was preferred by most Noble Families. Those that didn't were usually shunned or disowned.

Sirius asked the next question, his voice still wary. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," Seth shot back, knowing that noblemen children were not usually allowed to wander beyond the Academy gates.

Peter felt Sirius stiffen next to him and glanced over to see him lift his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. "You will answer _me_, mudblood, and truthfully at that." Even Peter had to swallow at his friend's condescending tone – he really was part of the House Black after all. Being called a mudblood was the ultimate insult anyone from the Noble Lineage could receive. It suggested that one believed the other to be tainted somehow, of lesser humane value, because of his mixed blood. If he wanted to, Sirius could sound downright frightening.

Seth's ears turned red at the slur, but he decided that answering was in his best interest. "I'm an orphan, sent here to work and help those who are sick."

An orphan?

The unspoken question passed in Peter and Sirius' eyes when they looked at each other.

"My parents were stricken with Cholera shortly after I was born," Seth thought to explain. He sounded tired, and monotone, almost as though he had recited this same story hundreds of times before. "My mother brought me to the orphanage so that I might survive before she died.

"Of course, the orphanage wanted to send me back to the Bailey Household, but because my father was disowned, I had no place there…" he trailed off, looking up at them again, his strange purple eyes meeting their gazes once more.

Sirius had relaxed a little – while he had gotten upset earlier, it wasn't the case that he really held an ill-will towards the commoners or half-bloods. If anything, he was one of the more open-minded noblemen from his House. He didn't bother to take back his insult though. The boy had deserved it for his cheek. "So, they didn't think to keep the truth from you."

"No," Seth said, evidently ending their conversation by getting up and nodding at Peter. "You looked pale and I thought you might need help getting your meal. I guess you'll be fine."

As if to prove him right, Sirius placed the tray of food that he had gotten in front of Peter before sitting down, never letting his gaze stray from Seth.

He was still wary, of course.

The purple eyed boy didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable with that. Instead, he said, "I guess I'll see you guys around…"

Peter stared down at his lap and tried not to cringe. He was not looking forward to talking with Seth again – there was something about him that made him feel uncomfortable.

Once he was gone, Sirius cast a critical glance his way. "Are you all right, Peter?"

His friend shot him an unconvincing smile. "I think I'm just hungry," was the reply. He finally turned his attention to the food in front of him and was disappointed to see gruel and fruit laid out on the tray. The doctors had said that until his liver was functioning properly, he could not eat anything very elaborate.

It was tasteless, but Peter did not complain, swallowing his meal obediently. He was glad when he felt a little of his fatigue leave his body – the nourishment really did help, and he wasn't about to make the mistake of demanding to go back upstairs on his own again.

Sirius let him brood in silence, eating the same gruel and fruit (for he had refused to eat something different than Peter because it would not be fair for the younger boy). He carefully made sure his face showed no expression on his face when Peter decided to speak at last. In truth Sirius was feeling very anxious, but he didn't want to alarm Peter any more than was necessary. He should have known that his friend would not let their earlier encounter with the orphan boy slide. "I wonder at the validity of Seth Bailey's history."

"You think he told a falsehood?"

"For one of the noble blood to be so conveniently within the Hospital walls and even more so to sit next to us…" Peter murmured, twirling the spoon inside his bowl between his thumb and forefinger, causing his gruel to swirl around the silverware. "Do you suppose it is something to worry about?"

"Whatever the case, Sir…_Seth_ will not see you again," Sirius said, tightly, a vow in his tone. "Heaven help him if he's lying to us."

A pained scowl painted itself across Peter's face. "I want to know everything I can about the Bailey Household, if you please. Let's leave the lad be until I dig deeper, shall we?"

Sirius dipped his head once and put one finger to Peter's bowl, tapping it slightly to remind the boy not to play with his food, but to eat it.

**0-0-0-0-0**

James was sprawled on a haystack, fast asleep. He had served his last day of punishment, and he had been so exhausted he had not been able to get up from where he lay.

He was brought awake by Remus, who had come just in time – before the nightmares began.

Trying his best to gather his bearing, James glanced up, taking in a big breath that sounded, to his disgust, like a gasp of fear.

Remus was dressed down in a pair of dark gray pants and a plain t-shirt. His hair, usually pulled back into a customary ponytail, was let loose so that it fell to his shoulders in soft curls. It was a rare sight to see, something even James would never get used to.

"I knew I'd find you here," he said, bending down and offering a hand so that James could get to his feet more easily. If he noticed the former man's skittishness, he didn't bother to comment on it.

The dark haired boy took the help willingly, his body protesting at the sudden movement. All his cells felt as though they were dragging themselves through him in agonizing slowness that once on his feet, he swayed, not yet fully awake.

His fatigue couldn't be helped though. Aside from his studies and his punishment, he used his nights to scour the grounds for any possible unguarded routes that could be used in case of an evacuation. So far, there was nothing and it made him frustrated – they were running out of time.

The festival was only a week away.

"Is it time already?" He heard himself asking, groggily.

"I could go without you," Remus suggested. "You look dead on your feet, sir. Perhaps you'd like some more rest?"

James shook his head adamantly. "I did not expect to fall asleep. Besides, you need a Marker, just in case." Tracking and Marking were very dangerous activities, even though there were two of them to do the job. Finding routes and memorizing them would have been easier had Sirius and Peter been with them, but that wasn't an option now.

This time, they took extra precautions because Professor McGonogall seemed to be watching their every movement. They snuck out whenever they were certain that Rosetta, who was always charged with keeping an eye on them, was fast asleep.

"We're a bit behind schedule, since Rosetta retired to bed later than usual tonight," Remus told him. "It's a good thing she's so busy or else she would have noticed you missing from your bedchambers."

"I did not expect I'd fall asleep," James said again, with a sigh. "I put my head down for only a moment…" Since he had not been able to finish his punishment because of a test he had had to write, James had been sent to finish cleaning the stables until Curfew, but he hadn't paid much attention to the time. Now, the place was empty of people, the scuffling and snorting of animals in their pens and stalls the only sounds within the building.

Remus eyed a horse, thoughtfully. "It would be faster if we travelled on horseback," he said. "As there is no snow, tracks will not give our position away…"

James nodded, too tired to disagree. Let Remus do all the thinking tonight – it was easier that way. His brain felt as though someone had taken a bat to it and did not stop until it was mush. Even the back of his eyes hurt, and he realized it was because his glasses had fallen off his face during his nap and now he was squinting just to be able to make things out clearly.

When he groped around to find them, his head spun sickeningly. The smells from the barn were making his stomach lurch. "I need fresh air…" he mumbled, fingers at last grasping his frames and pushing them back onto his nose. The world suddenly came back into sharp focus, and it didn't help his still-adjusting head.

"I'll say – and a bath at that," Remus laughed. "Even if we leave without anyone's knowledge, there's no doubt they'll be able to track your whereabouts by your smell alone."

James wrinkled his nose in a scowl. "If you'll give me a few moments, I'll go shower and change if that's what you're implying."

Remus glanced over his shoulder, beyond the window situated on the far right corner of the loft's wall. The moon up in the sky, though not full, still managed to light up the front gardens of the Academy. "If you so desire, I can wait, though time runs against us, sir."

Right. Time was ticking.

The thought of fresh air made James more than eager to get out. He promised Remus that he'd be right back and that they'd meet by the Whomping Willow as per usual. The tree had gotten its fond name from Peter who joked that it always seemed to reach its long wooden tendrils out threateningly.

Just as James expected, the moment he got outside, his stomach calmed down and the spinning of his head lessened until it disappeared all together. He took deep breaths before sprinting to the Academy Walls and beginning to climb.

Sirius had taught them all how to cling to the brick and how to place their footing in order not to fall. It had taken James the longest to learn, and it was only because he did not bide well with the thought of being a hundred feet off the ground. Now, he climbed nimbly, easily, years of practice helping him to climb steadily and surely, each foothold coming just as easily as each breath.

In a matter of moments, he let himself into his bedroom window, dropping down gently and rolling so that he did not make a lot of noise when he did so.

Without really caring, he grabbed the first pair of trousers and shirt that his hands touched, along with his toiletries and let himself out of his room, to the lavatory to wash up.

Not ten minutes later, bathed, dressed, and fully awake, James pulled on a cloak while he crept back down the hallway and down the dormitory steps.

So far, everything had gone according to plan.

As he hurriedly crossed the Common Room toward the Tower Doors, he tensed and turned abruptly, his sword out of its sheath in a fluid motion, held aloft before him, waiting when he heard a noise. Every muscle in his body tingled with the expectation of an attack. His eyes roamed the room and he let out a growl of annoyance when he saw it was a student.

The annoyance vanished the moment he saw precisely who it was though, and he quickly put his sword away.

Lily stood by the couches, her red hair tangled and left a mess around her shoulders. Her red cape hung limply, sticking to her uniform in some places where static held it tight. She blinked owlish eyes at him.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

She took a glance over her shoulder at the Grandfather's Clock that stood in the corner. "I fell asleep studying," she answered, tritely. After a pause, she asked, "Did you just come up now?"

James mind raced for an excuse but it came up empty. Of course, if there was an event, the Elites would have been informed. And if she had been studying in the room all the while, she would have noticed if he had come up earlier. "Yes."

She said, "It's late," while she glanced at the clock again and rubbed at her eye with the back of one hand. It was an endearing movement, and had James not been in such a hurry, he would have commented on it.

"I had some things I had to do," James answered, vaguely. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

Lily tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "I was worried when you didn't return to your chambers – disobeying curfew again?"

A wave of anger hit him, stronger than the guilt he felt. "Are you prying again?" he asked, trying to find an appropriate excuse. He honestly didn't want to fight with her, but he couldn't help feeling like she was strutting about acting high and mighty. At least he was out trying to do something for the good of the students. She just seemed out to bait him for breaking the rules.

Lily stared at him in silence, as if waiting for an explanation, unruffled at all by his scathing question. "And why aren't _you_ in bed?" he asked, trying to suppress his irritation – she was just doing her duty, after all. "I had thought the Elites were busier than ever with the…recent events happening."

"Like I said, I was studying," Lily answered, evenly. "I didn't have the time to earlier because of all the meetings I had to attend."

"You should get your rest," James told her, frowning in sincere concern. "Knowing the amount of work you have to do, you should try to get as much sleep as possible."

For once, he was glad that a Philologus Elites' schedule was as packed as it was. It gave him every excuse to push her toward her tasks without making it look like he had an agenda of his own.

But unfortunately, Lily was not dense. "Where are you going, Sir James?"

He frowned, not wanting to meet her gaze.

"You're going somewhere, aren't you?"

"My Lady, you should really just keep to your own business," he muttered, trying his best to keep from sounding exasperated.

"I'm right, though, aren't I?" She demanded, taking a step forward. "You're leaving school grounds again."

Feigning innocence, he asked, "Whatever makes you think that?"

Lily crossed her arms. "Sir, you are wearing riding boots at this time of the night and wearing a cloak. And you look like you're in a hurry," she added on an afterthought.

Seeing that he was not going to persuade her to let him leave peacefully, James threw up his hands and sighed. "Would it satisfy you if I said I won't get caught?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "If you run into any of those Russian soldiers…" Lily trailed off and didn't finish her sentence, the dread behind her words very evident.

It surprised her to hear him snigger and she glared at him. "It's not funny, Sir James! I know you're very good with the sword, but…"

"Lady Lily, are you concerned about me?" He asked, quietly, regarding her with a strange look.

Her answer was a blush, and it made him grin as he confirmed his assumption. "Don't worry," he said, "I'm not going out to look for a fight – rather, a way to avoid it."

"Oh."

He tilted his head. "Did you really think I was foolish enough to do such a thing?"

Lily blushed again. "Well, the last time, you were really eager to fight even though you were seriously injured."

This caused him to turn grim. "The last time, I had no choice. With so many of our students disarmed, I had to help." Out of habit, he pushed his hands through his hair as he spoke. "I would never draw my sword unless necessary." A small grin made its way back onto his face when he thought over her reaction. "It's nice to know you were worried…"

"Of course I was worried!" Lily cried. "I don't want you getting into any more trouble. Who knows what the army plans? They were able to get Aesalon, Master Dumbledore…even my father! And none of them returned!" She was working herself into a frenzy, she knew, but she couldn't help it. "I thought…when you didn't come upstairs…that…"

James stared at her, dumbfounded. Half of him wanted to laugh, while the other half wanted to go over to her and sweep her into his arms with the reassurance that he was still there. He did neither, watching her carefully before answering. "You have no need to worry for me. And even if I did not return, you have Pavel to take care of you. I hear you two are fond of each other. I'm sure he's a good man."

The words were not the ones he had been expecting to say, but he couldn't help himself. Why on earth would Lily be so worried about him when she already had someone on her mind? He hadn't wanted to bring up her relationship with Pavel like this, but he suddenly remembered his conversation with the man the other day. He hadn't had a chance to talk to her about it, and with the way a flash of guilt crossed her features, he felt his stomach tighten in dread.

"If I had known, I would not have pressed you," James said, scrambling to fill in the awkward silence. "You have my apologies, my Lady."

Lily shifted in her spot, tugging at her cape, nervously. "You've got it all wrong, Sir James. Pavel did confess his feelings to me, and I've thought about them, but I haven't responded yet."

James didn't answer. He was afraid his voice would break if he did, so he worked on trying to breathe properly. He steeled himself for her rejection.

She continued speaking, looking down at her feet as she did so. Obviously, she hadn't thought that their conversation would take this turn either. "I have to admit, he would be much easier to date, but I don't think I will."

Curiosity overcoming the barrier that had decided to lodge itself in his throat, James whispered, "Why not?"

A lovely shade of red colored Lily's face as she slowly brought her green eyes up to meet his. "Because I don't love him, silly."

James' breath caught in his chest at her words. Should he ask? Should he dare to? It was like teetering on the edge of a cliff – either her words would push him over, or save him from a sure death. The nausea he had felt earlier returned with a vengeance and he suddenly wished he hadn't opened his mouth at all to this topic.

He closed his eyes, trying to hold the world still as he brazenly took the plunge. "Then, who _do_ you love?"

His only answer was the ticking of the clock in the Common Room, loud, angry, insolent. Somehow, James hoped that maybe she hadn't heard the question – that the words had been drowned out by the sound. But when he looked, she had turned a darker shade of red, her fingers clenched into fists in the material of her cape.

It was as he feared: his question had upset her.

"Do you even have to ask?" Lily demanded, in a tone that was incredulous.

Now, James was confused. Had he missed something?

"God, you're an idiot!" She breathed, her green eyes ablaze now as she stared pointedly at him.

James felt as though he had been doused in freezing cold water at the implication behind her look and her words. Maybe he was still dreaming…? He hadn't even felt his jaw opening in disbelief at her sentence. He closed it now, feeling more confused than ever. "But you said that... why would you…I mean, you've _always_ denied me…" his sentences jumbled together, portraying his bewilderment. "And just how is it that Pavel would be easier to date?"

Again with the wrong choice of words.

He was being quite the blundering fool this night.

Lily rolled her eyes. "First of all, he is really cute. I was attracted to him at first sight." She giggled when he made a face and raised and eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Secondly, he's not a nobleman. I don't have to worry about class and formalities around him."

Here, she paused, her voice turning thoughtful, almost sad. "And then…I don't have to worry that I'd be left alone. That one day, he'd just disappear. It's my greatest fear, you know," she told him, "being left behind."

"Oh, my Lady," James sighed, crossing over to her in one step and putting his hands on her shoulders. "You are absolutely ridiculous. Are you afraid I will go away and never return? Is that why you always turned me down?"

Embarrassed, Lily nodded slowly, looking down again, unable to meet his penetrating gaze. She stiffened slightly when he gently pulled her into an embrace, but relaxed against him when he chuckled, a low rumble that was strangely comforting. "A man would have to be mad to leave you," he whispered.

"But you are always sneaking out," Lily protested, making no move to pull away. "And now there's a talk about war…and…if you ever became an Optivus…"

He set her back, then, and she pouted up at him. "You haven't even agreed to dating me, and yet, you don't wish to be separated?"

Lily wanted to smack him for his impish grin. "I don't want to be _disappointed_," she said at last. "Like my mother was…like I was…when my father left us."

"If, for any reason, I have to leave, I'd return," James told her. "No matter what happens, I'd find my way back."

She sighed and said ruefully, "It's selfish, I know, but I'll always want to know where you're going if we're going to date."

"Very well, if that's your condition, I can do that," James told her.

Lily's eyes widened at his ready response. "You say that now, but when the time comes…"

His arms, still around her waist, tightened slightly. "Please have more faith in me, my Lady."

She felt her eyes fill with tears and he slowly pulled her into another embrace. She shivered each time his fingers trailed a pattern through the material of her school uniform. "I told you: I'll return to your side."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

She exhaled but halfway through, it turned into a yawn, causing him to chuckle again. "You're tired," he noted. "You should get some sleep."

He began to pull away but her hands, which had rested at her sides, suddenly came up to grasp at his cloak. "No. Not until you tell me where you're going."

His breath was cool against her hair. "So, does that mean you will date me after all?"

She hesitated for a moment before saying, "I will on one more condition."

"And that would be…?"

"If we're going to date, then I want to drop the…appellations." She quickly tried to rephrase herself when he made a confused sound. "I mean, I never pictured myself calling my boyfriend 'sir'. It sounds so weird."

Lily thought that he'd be offended with her request and her words. Most of the time, she said what was on her mind without trying to sugarcoat what she tried to convey. She had never grown up learning courtesies or the speech style that the other students at the Academy used. She was relieved to hear another rumble of a laugh come from the man who was holding her. "I can do that too," he whispered.

Shyly, Lily looked up to see him smiling widely down at her. It was a smile of pure happiness, and she mirrored his grin. "All right then. It's settled."

"At last," James said, sounding blissful. He tightened his arms around her slightly, pleased that she did not object to the gesture and asked, "Is it true?"

"What?"

"That you love me?"

Lily buried her face into his chest, her cheeks heating up. She was never one to express her feelings in elaborate words. She felt like the whole world was awake and watching her, waiting for her response. "…Yes."

She didn't have to look up to know that James smirked – she could hear it in his voice. "I knew it!"

"Oh, be quiet," she hissed, teasingly, and his hands began their tracing of patterns again.

"You know I love you too." James said, quietly. "Like I said before, there will never be another for me."

"This sounds so mushy," Lily complained against him, sounding somewhat mortified at their conversation. But she snuggled into him more, unable to suppress the giddiness that was coursing through her. In truth, she liked it.

A lot.

So, this is what it felt like to be madly in love with someone. She had never felt this way about anyone before in her life. She didn't want it to end.

But it did, because James finally pulled away, his handsome face just inches from hers. "You really should get your rest my La…Lily," He corrected himself, before he could break the condition she had set for him. Her name, so cropped, sounded strange on his lips, something he'd definitely need to practice using. "You can hardly stand upright." And it was true, because he was supporting most of her weight in his arms.

"I'm fine…" She protested, but he wasn't fooled because she yawned again. "Don't go, James…"

"Do you want me to walk you to your room?" He offered, ignoring her pretense at being alert. His heart skipped at beat at the way she had so easily said his name – it sounded heavenly coming from her.

"No. I'm fine," Lily said again. "I don't want to go to my room. I'll stay here, and wait for you to come back."

Paranoid already, it seemed.

James sighed. Arguing with Lily wasn't his top priority right now. He wanted her to sleep and he needed to get downstairs or else Remus would worry. He had taken far too long as it was.

"Very well, if you want to be assured of my return, I shall wake you when I get back," he promised. "But please, rest in your chambers. The couch is hardly suitable for a good night's sleep."

She looked like she wanted to be difficult, but exhaustion won out, and she nodded, reluctantly. "You'll wake me," she reminded him.

"Yes."

"When you come back from…"

Ah, yes, her other condition.

"From scouting for open routes for evacuation. Remus and I are heading to Hogsmeade again."

Lily grimaced. "Evacuating means hiding underground again, right?" She didn't sound happy at the prospect. "I hate travelling those passageways."

Something in what she said made an idea form in James' head. Suddenly, whatever anxiety he felt about time being against them, tripled. He had to see Remus now.

Plans would have to change tonight.

As if to mock him, the clock in the Common Room rang four times, signaling the hours of the morning. In just a few hours, light would come, and he knew he could not waste any more time.

He began walking Lily up the dormitory steps, and she followed, not aware that she was doing so. "I'll let you know if we find anything," he told her, hoping she didn't hear his impatience. He steered her to her bedroom door, before bowing slightly. "Sleep well, Lily."

She put her hand on the doorknob and made to turn it, but stopped. "Please be careful."

Without answering, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead, unable to help himself, an action that he didn't bother to ask for permission to do as he had in the past. "I'll be back," he promised.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN:** And there you have it! At last, James and Lily have confessed their feelings openly to each other. Please tell me your thoughts on the developments so far. I'd really appreciate it. Keep my drive alive with your reviews! This school year is going to be the most hectic one of all, so the next chapter will take a while to post.

Until the next update, thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	10. Dreams and Nightmares

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…_

* * *

**AN: **Ah, October…the season for exams and unfortunately, laziness. I actually managed to get some firepower for this chapter, so I do hope you enjoy it. Loved your reviews. Loved your emails. This is for you.

Onward.

* * *

_Previously:_

"_If we're going to date, then I want to drop the…appellations," Lily said._

"_I can do that," James whispered._

_Shyly, Lily looked up to see him smiling widely down at her. It was a smile of pure happiness, and she mirrored his grin. "All right then. It's settled."_

"_At last," James said, sounding blissful. He tightened his arms around her slightly, pleased that she did not object to the gesture and asked, "Is it true?"_

"_What?"_

"_That you love me?"_

_Lily buried her face into his chest, her cheeks heating up. She was never one to express her feelings in elaborate words. She felt like the whole world was awake and watching her, waiting for her response. "…Yes."_

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**- Dreams and Nightmares -**

In her dream, she could hear a soft voice calling her.

The sound was low, husky, and very familiar. It belonged to James, she realized, and she listened intently.

"I'm here, Lily," he was saying to her.

Still lost in her own world, she turned around to find him, but was greeted only by darkness. She made a face, not liking that at all.

Where was he?

Something warm touched her face, and she heard James' voice again. "It's all right – sleep." His voice was soothing, and she realized that the warmth came from his hand and it caused her to stir.

No, she did not want to wake. She wanted to stay where she was so that she could listen to him. Only in her dreams would he ever speak to her like that…touch her so intimately. His hand caressed her face, and she relaxed, sinking deeper into oblivion.

At first, the sound of the Bell's Chimes seemed like it was part of her dream, but a distant part of Lily's mind warned her otherwise.

It was torture having to pull herself from her sleep, and when she finally managed to do so, it was to a pounding headache and a queasy stomach.

The Bells, unfortunately, were unrelenting.

By the time she made it to the Assembly, it was already half-way through, and every head in the auditorium turned to look at her.

Already flustered, Lily blushed and stumbled to her seat beside Severus who watched her with his dark eyes, evidently amused. To make things worse, Master Edmund decided to greet her dryly with, "Good morning, Lady Lily. We're glad you decided to join us."

Lily winced inwardly and hailed the Headmaster before sitting down. She noticed Sir Lorien was present today, finally recovered enough from his bout with the flu, but still paler than usual. He didn't look at her, intent on the announcements. The others were just as absorbed, and she was glad that no one else commented on her tardiness. She supposed she had gotten the most embarrassment out of it for the day already. She knew she'd hear from the higher ups later – after all, Philologus Elites were supposed to set an example, and it was frowned upon severely when that example was not a good one.

Master Edmund seemed thinner, older today. From where she sat on the balcony, Lily could see the way his shoulders slumped and how his usually energetic face seemed distracted. Perhaps he was losing sleep, too, and she felt sorry for him. While the Elites helped him a great deal, ultimately, the decisions of the school's affairs were up to him.

She found she couldn't pay attention to him at all, his words tuning out as she scanned the seats below, looking for the head full of familiar untidy hair that was as black as a raven's wings.

James was present, sitting in the row directly behind the Elementary branch, his face in his palms, his back turned to her. Remus was sitting next to him, positioned in the exact same way, and Lily wondered whether the two were holding a conversation with each other, or if they were just too tired to listen to Master Edmund speak. She found herself wondering at just what hour the men had returned.

She snapped out of her musings when Sir Severus cleared his throat. "Lady Lily, it's time to go."

Scrambling to her feet, Lily fell into line behind the rest of the Elites, who were already filing out, a few of them shooting her curious glances.

She knew that they did not consider her as an equal for the most part. First of all, she was the first female in history to join the ring of the Elites. Secondly, they thought her too fragile to deal with the harder tasks, and, ever gentlemen, tried to lessen her share of the burdens as much as possible. Finally, because of their upbringing, they believed they were more intelligent – more capable.

Of course, the only one who ever made those thoughts clear to her, was Sir Lucius. The others were too polite to point out their differences.Then again, it held in part the way the Malfoy Household was very proud and disliked anyone from the Arts and Athletics Branch in general.

As if he had heard her musings, Lucius turned his head in disdain from her and marched off, leading the group to their first class. Dane gave her an apologetic smile on his behalf before running to catch up, and Sir Lorien hurried to stay not far behind.

Surprisingly, Sir Severus matched his pace with hers, and whether it was out of courtesy or because he actually wanted to walk with her, Lily didn't know. She found that he was the sole member of the ring with whom she got along fairly well with, despite his dark countenance.

They walked in silence together, and she was glad of it, because she wasn't up to trying to explain her absent behavior to anyone.

When they reached the class, however, Dane pulled her aside to ask if anything was wrong. When she assured him everything was all right, he gave her a worried frown. "I know the workload is getting heavy again, and I know we're all under stress. I'm sure you lack of sleep: we're all party to that, too."

Lily wanted to disappear on the spot. Somehow, getting lectured by him was the worst, because as the leader of the Elites, he was the one most people pinned the blame on for the mistakes of the group as a whole. "It must be very difficult for you because you are the only one to take care of affairs within your Branch unlike the rest of us who have someone to help and keep the other in check. If you would like, one of us could go over every morning for a wake up call?"

"Oh, no, it's okay!" Lily objected at once. "I'm sorry if I caused you trouble, Sir Dane – if I caused any of you trouble – but it won't happen again." Goodness, it had only been one mistake, and it was as though she had committed the biggest crime imaginable! "I promise to try to never let it happen again."

Dane nodded then, the apologetic look returning to his face. "It's hard, isn't it?" He murmured, eyes sweeping the room at the rest of the Elites who were not paying any attention to them whatsoever, doing their own things while they waited for class to start. Severus was feverishly marking the work of his Chemistry class, while Lucius, sitting comfortably in a plush chair, was busy writing something – most probably fixing up the Philosophy Essay they all had to hand in that day.

Lorien was off in his own corner, reading a book, and as to which one it was, Lily could not see.

"I've already placed a petition in our next meeting for another Exam for Elite candidates," Dane told her. "I don't know if it will be pushed through, especially with the situation we're all facing. I truly hope things will get resolved quickly so that we may move on with our regular schedule."

Lily hoped so too.

Luckily, no one else bothered to give her a reprimand, so the rest of the morning went by quickly. They had a Latin pop quiz right after breakfast, and before lunch, there was a Physics tutorial as well as a brief meeting.

Dane reported that the supplies within the Academy were well-stocked and able to last for the next month with some to spare should portions be rationed properly. While they had never had to limit the amount of food, drink, and medicine, they didn't want to be too careless.

Lily agreed, telling them that the supplies within the neighboring Village were very tight due to the army that was residing there. She told them what she had learned from the shops and inns that James and she had been to.

When it came to whether or not the army were buying or importing additional weapons, Severus told them that no such activity was taking place at the borders. "It seems they have come well-equipped," he said, in his silk-like voice. "If Sir James' headcount is accurate, then we will have to assume that we have over 700 soldiers who are armed to contend with."

"That is, _if_ there is a plan for an attack again," Dane put in, glancing around the table. "Sir Lucius, I've no doubts you've found out all you can about the man named Toma?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Lucius stood, his long blond hair falling over his shoulders like spun gold. When the light hit it, it made the color turn somewhat silver, so that it matched the man's green cape in the colors of his Branch. "I spoke with Aleksey as commanded," he said, "and the news stands as thus: Toma Ridel is the King of Russia's top military officer. Very recently, he has risen in rank to the General of the King's army – the position used to belong to Ivan Tsankov." At the name, there was visible disgust that played on everyone's face.

No one could forget that name, or what it implied.

Ivan had been responsible for the deaths of many at the Academy.

"He is faithful to the Crown of Russia, and leads the army with the permission of the King," Lucius continued. "Apparently, he fought for the position he's in now."

"And Aleksey knows the man personally?" Dane pressed.

Lucius nodded. "Aleksey said that he was trained to fight with the sword by Toma when he was but a boy. He says the man's level is quite high, a formidable opponent and therefore able to lead an army well." He fell silent then, offering no more information.

Dane sounded thoughtful. "Well, it seems as though Toma is not the type to do things haphazardly. He obviously is a man with high expectations."

"Crafty?" Severus asked.

"Doubtful," Lucius said, shaking his head. "Aleksey believes Toma won the King's approval fairly."

Lily listened to the men talk, her pen jotting down the notes. She would have to make a copy for the Headmaster later, so that he would be updated on all the information. She wasn't surprised that Sir Lorien hadn't made a contribution to the meeting at all – he rarely ever did. The most she had heard him speak was three times since she had joined the Elite ranks.

So it was a bit of a shock to hear him say, "Then, Sir Lucius, do you suppose the man has ulterior motives?"

Every eye was on him now – when Lorien spoke, it was only because he was upset about something. His face, still paler than normal, was in the calm mask he always wore. It was as though the sky could fall and he would not blink an eye at it.

"I could not say…" Lucius murmured, shaking his head. "I've not met the man, nor do I know him personally. But Aleksey would be against the idea, I'm sure. I, for one, think him to."

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances. Unlike the other Noblemen, Lily had seen that the gentlemen in the room did not jump on gossip or personal biases as a ground for accusation.

"Sir Severus?"

"My thoughts are that Toma is completely innocent," Severus said after a moment's hesitation.

"Sir Dane?"

Dane also shook his head. "I'm suspicious at most, but I must side with Sir Severus. We cannot blame the fault of others onto one man just because he shares the same skin."

Trust Dane to be so philosophical.

Lorien cracked the slightest smile at that, which disappeared quickly, before turning to Lily. "My Lady?"

Shifting in her seat, Lily twirled the pen she held around in her fingers. "I have a feeling…" she paused, unable to express her sudden anxiousness. "I have a feeling that Toma isn't good news," she finished, lamely.

Lucius sneered, "A woman's _intuition_."

"Now, Sir Lucius, you know as well as I that a woman's intuition can come in handy," Dane said lightly, evidently trying to ease the would-be tension in the air.

Lily was certain that if Lucius wasn't a Nobleman, he would have rolled his eyes. She wondered how Narcissa could even stand to date him But then again, both of them were as sour as old grapes anyway, just perfect for each other.

Lorien did not offer his opinion of course, staring back down at the table his eyes going distant. If anything, the man would probably discuss it with Dane afterwards.

The meeting concluded shortly after that, and when the separate duties had been assigned to everyone, they got up to go to lunch.

**0-0-0-0-0**

James' days were packed with teaching, studying and classes, while his nights were reserved for scouting the village with Remus. It got to the point where he could no longer focus on anything, as sleep-deprived as he was.

Remus wasn't doing any better either. He fell asleep in all their classes, though he was notorious for not keeping up so the professors didn't bother to pay too much attention to him. James, on the other hand, was not so fortunate and, wanting to keep their nightly routine of breaking Curfew a secret, endured each class with great difficulty.

By the third day, he swayed on his feet during Defense and Practicality, too dizzy, too tired to even lift his sword.

"Sir James?"

Shaking himself out of his stupor, James concentrated on trying to remember the name of the dark face that stared at him in concern.

A seventh year student from the House of Ravenclaw.

Sir Walter.

Yes, that was it.

"Are you quite all right?"

"I…yes…I apologize…" James mumbled, bringing a hand up to his forehead. It was cold and clammy, and he realized with a jolt, that his hand was shaking.

Walter did not look convinced. "Perhaps you should sit down," the lad suggested, and to James' dismay, the whole class agreed, parting to the side to clear a way for him.

His body and mind screamed at him to obey, but James stubbornly shook his head. "There is no need."  
"I would beg to differ," a new voice called out in objection. Sir Kenji, standing at the back of the crowd, had his arms crossed. His almond-shaped eyes glared at him, and his thin lips were pulled into a thin, firm line of disapproval. "It's quite evident you're unwell, sir."

James met his glare, though not as confidently. It was hard to stare down Kenji because there was just something about him that put one off-guard. Maybe it was the way he carried himself so serenely, as though time did not matter to him, as though he could always appear to move in slow motion while everyone else looked as if they had been placed on fast-play.

Eventually, James lost, because he had to look away in guilt. He heaved a frustrated sigh and Kenji softly said, "Sir, you should go see Madam Pomfrey. You look…unwell." It was his way of trying to legitimize James' excuse for not being able to teach class effectively.

At that, James shot him a grateful nod, and sheathed his sword clumsily, his shaking fingers making it hard to do so in any graceful manner. The inelegant gesture brought him more embarrassment than if he had fallen face-first during a dance recital in front of a crowd of spectators.

No one dared comment on it, though everyone had no doubt managed to see it. He mumbled an apology, whatever he really said not registering at all in his mind, and moved woodenly to the doors of the gymnasium, leading out into the hallway.

Somehow, he managed to find the Hospital Wing, and even remembered to announce himself politely before letting himself inside.

Madam Pomfrey was not there. Instead, a male doctor was present, his uniform indicating that he was part of the Royal Army's medical help. A little bewildered, James bowed and asked for a pass that excused him for the rest of the day's classes. Luckily, the doctor didn't ask questions – there was nothing really to ask, seeing James' pale skin and exhausted eyes. He did say, "I have something that might help you get some rest, sir, if you would have it?" But James declined the offer. After all, he was certain he could fall asleep easily without the aid of any sleeping pills.

He considered staying in the Hospital Ward instead of taking the long climb up to the Gryffindor Tower, but decided against it. He never did like the white-washed room, or the company it kept.

So, he prepared himself to walk the five flights of stairs leading to his dormitory, not trusting himself to find his way through the maze-like pattern of the underground passageways which would have gotten him in bed faster. He was awake enough to know that he would be lost in a matter of seconds with the way he seemed so disoriented.

By the time he reached the Front Hall, he could not move any further, having to sit on the first step and try to hold the spinning world still. It took him a few moments to regain some semblance of control, but when he slowly climbed to his feet again, he came face to face with Lily who was making her way down the stairs.

She took one look at him and gasped, her face creasing worriedly. Before she could speak, James forced a smile and a bow. "Good day, Lady Lily."

That seemed to take her by surprise. The worried face turned into a scowl. "You look terrible! Have you been sleeping?" she demanded, tossing her red cape back with a flick of her hand.

Yawning, James could only stare at her.

"I haven't seen you for three days, and you never return to your chambers at all during the night!" Lily continued. Her glare was rather fascinating. Her green eyes flashed, a slight flush staining her cheeks so that her light skin was tinged a healthy pink. It almost made him take a step back.

Sheepishly, James mussed at his hair and didn't answer. Actually, he was at a loss of words, his mind going blank. He was too tired to argue, so he let her rage at him. He snapped out of it partially when he heard her demand, "Are you trying to avoid me?"

At that, he blinked. "Of course not! I was just busy, that's all. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you my whereabouts." His hand came out to touch her arm tentatively, silently begging for forgiveness.

Now her expression cooled into that of remorse. "I was worried," Lily said, quietly. "What you're doing…it's dangerous." She made a face.

He found the strength to grin. "It's going to be just fine, you'll see." His grin faltered at the sad look in her eyes. "I apologize…I really do. I'm not making a very good impression, am I?"

She looked away, embarrassed. "I couldn't help but think that maybe I wasn't exactly girlfriend material for you, and that maybe you'd changed your mind."

"Girlfriend material?" he repeated.

"I've never had a boyfriend before," she admitted. "I don't really know how to…act…"

This time, James flushed. He had only ever been in one relationship before her and that had ended quite badly. It must be confessed that he had not even wanted to progress to any form of intimacy with his last girlfriend. The idea of doing so with Lily was rather appealing, but something he had not even thought about.

At least, not yet.

"Nothing has to change," he told her, at last. "Such things can wait. I don't intend on forcing you to do anything you don't want to, my La…Lily…" he managed to catch himself before he could tack on the title.

Lily cracked a smile, at last, and he moved his hand down from her arm to her hand.

Lily didn't pull away, looking down at their entwined fingers. "When was the last time you slept?" she asked.

"I haven't since the day we became an official couple." He didn't flinch at all with the words. Instead, he seemed to become more alert with them.

"I figured as much," Lily murmured. "I hope you won't be keeping this up."

"Just a little bit more," he said. "Remus and I have found a way. Now, it's all a matter of timing and keeping track." He squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry to have worried you."

She shook her head. "You found a way?"

He nodded. "I'll explain it more later." He didn't want to hold this conversation where there might be some listening ears. Though the King's Army did not look to be interested in their soft murmurings, he had no doubt that they were ever attentive. "If you stand around here with me, the other Elites will start to question your whereabouts." He withdrew his hand from hers, and gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll be going up to get some rest." He held up the written notice from the doctor in his other hand for emphasis.

A look of relief crossed Lily's features. "That's good. You need it."

James returned her grin. "Could you do me a favor?"

Lily narrowed her eyes suspiciously and he laughed. "I'm afraid I shan't wake in time to go with Remus again tonight," he said, "I feel like I could sleep for weeks on end. I would like to ask you to wake me when the time comes."

"Why don't you just ask Sir Remus to wake you?"

"I want you to be the one, so that you won't worry again," he told her. When she opened her mouth to object, he added, "I will tell you about what we found, then, too."

Defeated, Lily rolled her eyes. "I'll be there. Now get to bed before you fall over."

Somehow, he managed to find the strength to laugh again. Without further ado, he turned his concentration on the winding staircase once more.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The room was dark, dimly lit in the corners with oil lamps, casting ominous shadows against the walls.

He was pinned, his arms behind his back, raised above the floor at a strange angle that pulled his muscles taught in their sockets.

In panic, drew in a deep breath.

No.

Not again.

Fear lodged itself into his chest, making breathing very difficult. He began to pant, a whine coming from his throat as he tried futilely to free himself from his bonds.

Why was this happening?

A flash of red caught his eye, and made the panic that much stronger. He felt like he could choke on his tongue.

"What's the matter?" A voice asked, sounding pleasantly concerned, but holding just the right amount of poison just beneath the surface. Ivan's face was suddenly in front of him and on instinct, James recoiled, hitting his head hard against the stone wall behind him.

"Are you afraid?" Ivan demanded, holding up a gleaming knife. "You don't have to be. Just tell us where the Treaty is."

"I'm not afraid," James said, though his trembling voice gave him away. "This is all just a dream."

Ivan raised his eyebrow. "Is it now? Could dreams feel like this?"

A flash of pain caused James to cry out, as the knife embedded itself into his flesh, slicing his arm so that blood began to run down his white uniform shirt in rivulets. This couldn't be…!

"Still think it's a dream, Mr. Potter?"

James watched wide-eyed as Ivan took a fistful of his shirt in one meaty hand and pulled the material free with a loud rip. The impact of the tear made his body ache as it slammed against the stone wall. The buttons of his shirt popped off and fell with soft pings to the floor below – into the blood that had already started to accumulate at his feet.

"There are things knives can do that are more painful than cutting," Ivan told him, a small, sadistic smile on his lips.

James knew that only too well.

He tensed, as Ivan let the tip of the blade rest against the smooth skin of his chest. It was cold and sent a shiver through his body. "Now, then, the Treaty?"

"It's…" he hesitated, trying to remember. "It's with…the King…His Majesty wanted it returned to him…" he said, through gasps desperate to keep the pain from coming.

What a coward he was!

A cold look of fury settled onto Ivan's face. "Don't lie to me," he hissed. "Flesh burns just as well as it bleeds."

As he spoke, he threw the knife aside and grabbed a flaming torch, threateningly.

James had to struggle not to start crying on the spot. "I'm telling you the truth!" he said. "I swear I don't have it…!"

Agony coursed through him as Ivan mercilessly drove the flame-lit torch into his chest, the smell of his flesh and mortar burning strong in the air. His screams echoed off the walls of the underground Throne Room.

The torture continued then, and had James twisting and writhing in agony in a matter of moments. The chains holding his hands bound cut deeply into his wrists until he could no longer feel his hands. He screamed so much that his voice became hoarse, his throat hurting just as much as the rest of his body. Red filled his vision as blood obscured his view.

"Please!" he begged. "Please stop – please, stop hurting me!" His body shook in spasms, and he was unable to control it as the pain consumed him, licking at his every wound in eager greediness. "I'll do whatever you want!" he pled, back arching with his scream as the whip Ivan was now holding lashed at his torso again. "Have mercy!!"

Ivan's hands were suddenly on his shoulders, shaking him, his teeth gritted, his eyes wild, almost maniacal. "James!"

"Please, leave me alone!" James cried, wanting the hands to let him go. The darkness consumed him, letting him know that no one could help. No one would save him.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

But the shaking didn't stop, and the hands didn't release him. "James! James, wake up!"

With a sob, James opened his eyes, disoriented, breathing hard, tears running down his face. Bewildered and shaking, he looked up to see Lily sitting next to him, her hands on his shoulders and her face pinched in concern.

She had come in to wake him just as she had promised.

A dream.

No.

A nightmare.

His hands were clutched around his chest, where he had been burned, and the scar that had been left behind throbbed as if in reminder to the torture.

"It's okay…" Lily whispered, pushing his hair back with her hands, soothingly. "It's all right, no one is going to hurt you. You're safe." She told him, and he clung to her words, desperately, drinking in the sound of her voice.

He was in his room, his arms and legs wound tightly in his bed sheets. The light of his lamp was on, a welcome sight to see.

He felt fresh tears leak down his face, and seeing them, Lily pulled him into an embrace, where he went willingly. Her nightgown was soft against his cheek and he breathed in her scent, still too tired and bewildered to feel humiliated at his weakness. He listened to her comforting tone, as she stroked his back, holding him close.

When his shaking had died down some, Lily asked, "Are you all right?"

James tested his voice. "It was just like…when…" he couldn't finish his sentence, the horror of that night two months ago returning with a vengeance. He had thought he was over it. He had thought that he had put it behind him.

Apparently, he was wrong.

The incident had left him more scarred than he had realized.

He sighed, his eyes already starting to close against his will and he sagged against Lily, who tightened her arms around him. "You need rest, James. Go back to sleep."

He didn't want to. He didn't want the nightmare to plague him again, but he was already starting to lose consciousness. "Lily…"

Her voice came from far away. "I'm right here."

In a matter of moments, James was fast asleep again, his breathing ragged, his face tormented.

Not knowing what else to do, Lily held him to her for the rest of the night.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN: **Now that the threat of the Russian Army is becoming more of a reality, I believe some traumatic stress would manifest itself within the characters. James may be strong, but he's a young man who's not perfect and who also has fears. Thus, his weakness shouldn't come as a surprise – his strong front crumbling is rather endearing.

Anyway, thoughts on this chapter would be lovely!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	11. Unfavorable Coercion

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies…

* * *

  
_

**AN:** Sorry everyone! I know I've been taking centuries to update, but I have never had such a stressful semester before. In between classes and every free period I can get, I try to write a snippet. I really appreciate all the reviews you guys have left for me though. As always, this chapter is for you.

Onward.

* * *

_Previously:_

_A nightmare._

_James felt fresh tears leak down his face, and seeing them, Lily pulled him into an embrace, where he went willingly. Her nightgown was soft against his cheek and he breathed in her scent, still too tired and bewildered to feel humiliated at his weakness. He listened to her comforting tone, as she stroked his back, holding him close._

"_It's okay…" Lily whispered, pushing his hair back with her hands, soothingly. "It's all right, no one is going to hurt you. You're safe," she told him, and he clung to her words, desperately, drinking in the sound of her voice._

_He sighed, his eyes already starting to close against his will and he sagged against Lily, who tightened her arms around him. "You need rest, James. Go back to sleep."_

_He didn't want to. He didn't want the nightmare to plague him again, but he was already starting to lose consciousness. "Lily…"_

_Her voice came from far away. "I'm right here."_

_In a matter of moments, James was fast asleep again, his breathing ragged, his face tormented._

_Not knowing what else to do, Lily held him to her for the rest of the night.

* * *

  
_

**Chapter 11**

**- Unfavorable Coercion -**

Something was crushing his left arm.

In discomfort, James tried to move it, and was surprised when whatever was pinning it down, shifted of its own accord.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to have a look. He nearly cried out when he saw Lily snuggled into the crook of his arm, her red hair splayed across his pillows, her legs tangled in his.

His other arm was draped loosely around her waist, his fingers caught in the material of her white night gown.

Then, memory of the night before registered, and James slowly returned his head above hers, not wanting to wake her (though, he was pretty sure that his heart thumping loudly in his chest would be enough to wake the whole Gryffindor Tower).

Lily must have climbed in beside him sometime in the middle of the night, and he had to admit that he was thrilled. A fleeting thought told him that he wouldn't mind waking up for the rest of his life to this scene.

In sleep, she was even more beautiful. Her breathing was even, playing coolly across his collar bone whenever she exhaled, and it sent slight shivers through him. He examined her features, having to suppress the urge to pull her closer.

He worried what her reaction would be when she woke up: after all, their position was rather…intimate. Would she think he was being too forward?

"James? What's wrong?"

The sound of her voice, groggy and low, caused him to start. Her eyes were open now, half-lidded.

Immediately, he made to withdraw his hand from around her waist, "Did I wake you? I'm sorry," he said, quickly.

Lily groaned slightly and shifted so that her knee knocked his accidentally. She didn't apologize, instead, yawned helplessly. "What time is it?"

James glanced at the clock on his bedside table next to his lamp. "It's just after six," he whispered. Already, he could hear the birds outside trilling their songs in their trees and the sun had already begun to break through the horizon, signaling the start of another day. Unconsciously, he began toying with the ends of her hair. "There's still some time to sleep," he told her.

As if what he said finally clicked in her head, she sat up suddenly, so that the bed beneath them squeaked, and his arm, still draped around her waist, fell away from her. "Oh!"

He gasped, "What is it?"

"I didn't mean to spend the night here!" she cried, sounding mortified.

"Well, you did," James said, dryly, sitting up as well. "Though I don't remember when you asked me permission to share my bed."

Her face colored instantly at that, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks. "I…"

Despite her embarrassment, James laughed quietly. "It's quite all right, I don't mind in the least." Then, realizing that his words were probably going to make her feel even more uncomfortable, he added, "About last night…thank you…for staying by my side…"

Lily glanced down at his blanket, unable to meet his gaze. "How often?" she asked, quietly, forgetting her embarrassment for the moment. At his confused hum, she rephrased herself. "How often do you get those...nightmares?"

Unconsciously, he shivered at the reminder. "Not very often," he replied, suddenly glad that she wasn't looking at him because he was certain his cheeks were flushed in embarrassment. "I used to have them every night after…well, you know, after the infiltration. When they finally stopped, I thought that would be the end of it. Yet, suddenly…for the last few days…"

Without thinking, James' hand went out and closed itself around her right wrist. She turned her head sharply in his direction, and saw the pained expression in his eyes. It made her want to hug him again.

She had tried to leave the room the night before, but even in sleep he clung to her like a child would to his mother – only, James had never been raised by a parental unit, so he had never experienced being comforted after a bad dream. And those dreams had plagued him all night.

So, Lily put her fingers to his cheeks. "It's over, James. Don't think about it."

He exhaled slowly and nodded.

"I should go," Lily murmured, climbing off his bed. Seeing his forlorn look, she smiled. "I haven't forgotten how fast gossip spreads within the Noblemen circles."

At that, James smiled bleakly, and it was a relief to do so. It made the dark thoughts dissipate and retreat into the corners of his mind again. "I'll see you at the Assembly," he said.

She shook her head. "No, you should stay here. You need more rest, and I'm sure I can get a pass for you from the Nurse."

At his doubtful look, she reminded him, "I'm an Elite. All I need to do is abuse my power a little." She playfully rolled her eyes and shrugged with the last sentence, relieved to see him smiling again.

As she crossed the floor to his door, Lily turned to face him. "Please stay here and sleep? If you want, I'll tell Rosetta to come and check on you every hour." She decided not to mention his nightmares again, but she was certain he was thinking of them. Before he could object, Lily tacked on, "If you want to be able to break Curfew with Sir Remus again tonight, you'll listen to me," knowing full well that she had just condoned his blatant defiance of the school rules.

When James sighed in defeat, she grinned, turning the doorknob and opening the door. "I'll get you that pass, don't worry. Sweet dreams."

And with that, she exited, leaving James by himself again.

Despite the fact that she had told him not to dwell on his fears, he couldn't help it – afraid to close his eyes, he stared at the ceiling long enough to hear the Bell's Chimes ring out an hour later, and the pounding of feet go past his dorm room. After that, left in the silence, he had no choice but to succumb to the pull of sleep.

This time, as he went under, he tried to imagine the scene he had woken up to that day, and drifted easily into a peaceful slumber at last, his dreams revolving around a certain woman with red hair…

**0-0-0-0-0**

Peter glanced up as someone knocked on the frame to his door, which stood open so that the doctors could check in on him every half hour without waking him up if he was asleep.

Surprised, he set his book down on his lap to see who it was. He was even more surprised to see Seth Bailey poking his head in, his dark hair obscuring his strange purple gaze.

Unable to help himself, Peter scowled and started to slide under his covers but Seth took the liberty to come inside, despite the fact that he had not been given permission to. "How are you feeling?" he asked, as he crossed the room.

Peter didn't answer but Seth didn't seem put off by that. Instead, he said, "I brought you something," as he held up his arms, showing him a pot of flowers. These, he set by Peter's bedside table. "You really need some color in this room," Seth noted.

The flowers were bright against the whitewashed walls, and very eye-catching, their yellow petals looking like miniature suns. Unwillingly, Peter's gaze was drawn to them, drinking in the only taste of the outdoors that he had seen – and would probably see – in a long while. The sight of them made his spirits lift slightly, and it must have shown on his face because Seth grinned. "They're pretty, aren't they?"

"They're flowers," Peter grudgingly replied, pulling his gaze away from them and wishing Sirius were nearby. Unfortunately, his friend had left the room to speak with the doctors, so there was no chance he could be saved from this conversation.

Seth had trained his purple eyes curiously onto him. "I heard you collapsed." When Peter never responded, Seth continued, "I came here to try and cheer you up. I thought perhaps you might like someone to talk to."

"I don't want to talk," Peter said, snippily, and he had to admit that he was being rather childish, crossing his arms and turning his head away.

If he had been looking, he would have seen mixed expressions on Seth's face but as it was, Peter did not bother to look at him, clenching his hands into fists in his blankets, silently wishing his unwanted companion to go away.

To his dismay, Seth did not move, and he could feel the other boy's gaze on him, scrutinizing, curious. The next words from his mouth were unexpected, catching Peter off-guard. "I've read that book before. But I think Tolman's other book, _Arbitrary__Nights__,_ is better."

Peter fingered the cover of the book he had been reading thoughtfully, thankful to look somewhere else other than the boy standing next to him. He had read _Arbitrary__Nights_ too, and he was of the same opinion. It had been a book given to him by Remus a long time ago, back when he had still been within the Palace walls. It brought back memories of home, before any of this fiasco had been spun.

"How did you even find me?" He asked at last, changing the subject and meaning the question in two ways. He hadn't given Seth his name at all the other day. He didn't even have a nameplate on his doorway or any of his charts, just to play safe. If Seth was a spy, he would spin himself a formidable lie that Peter would probably see right through. After all, Sirius and James had covered their tracks so well that even the King's Army would not be able to locate him if they tried.

Now, when he finally looked up, Seth was hanging his head – in shame, or embarrassment? – and he answered, "I followed you back to your rooms the other day." At Peter's incredulous look, he hurriedly explained, "I wanted to ask you some questions. I've never actually met any Noblemen before. My own family didn't want me back, so I was just interested in learning more…"

Alarm bells started ringing in Peter's head at his words.

Had Seth been sent to find out Peter's real identity? Had their presence suddenly become known?

His heart monitor began beeping louder, in shorter sessions, causing Seth to turn and look at the screens.

_The damned thing,_ Peter thought, sourly.

"All right, there?" Seth asked, sounding alarmed.

"I'm fine…" Peter mumbled. He ducked his head, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.

"Maybe I should call a doctor…" Seth said, and Peter could hear the worry in his voice.

"No, I'm fine," Peter insisted. His right hand was close to the button to call in for the nurse - he didn't need help.

"Boy, you're stubborn," Seth muttered. He seemed uncertain, looking as though he was going to ignore the invalid all together and do just as he said he would, but instead, he commented, "I keep trying to come up with reasons why you might not like me. Is it because I am not a pureblood nobleman like you?"

At that, Peter glared at him. "I am not a nobleman."

Now a silence filled the air as Seth considered that. Again, he seemed uncertain and he let his eyes roam the room as he thought. They stopped on Peter's charts and he gave no indication as to whether or not he could understand them. He then took in the screens surrounding the sick boy's bed, and moved forward to peer at one that was monitoring his blood pressure. "All right then, if you say so," he murmured, not contesting Peter's earlier challenging response. "At least tell me why you're so set on hating me."

Completely at a loss for words, Peter's glare faltered. "Please, just go away," he heard himself say in a small voice. There was something about Seth that made him very nervous.

"Maybe it's because you don't want to hate me, but you're forcing yourself to," Seth speculated, not moving from his spot, his purple gaze smoldering when he unleashed it on Peter. "Or maybe it's because you don't know how to make friends. Or maybe…"

"-Or _maybe _you should beg my pardon," Peter said, hardly able to keep the snarl from his voice. "You came in unannounced and now you make false accusations of me!"

Seth raised an eyebrow. "For someone who's not a nobleman, you sure speak like one."

Turning red, Peter reached over to push the button to call in for a nurse, but Seth was faster, reaching out and snagging his hand before he could so much as touch it. "Wait!"

At Peter's hiss, Seth tightened his grip. "I'm sorry if I offended you just now. I'll leave if you want me to, there's no need to call the authorities." He let go and held his hands up, palms forward as if to show he meant no harm. His feet moved backward slowly, in retreat to the door. "Answer me one thing, though." Without waiting for Peter's acquiesce, he asked, "Would you have been less hostile if I _had_ asked you if I could visit?"

Peter snatched the plastic handle with the button from the stand next to his bed. "What is your real purpose for being here, Sir Seth?"

He was dumbfounded when the other boy let out a bark of laughter. "Please don't call me that. I have never thought of myself as a nobleman. I don't tack on titles, thank you very much." He sounded disdainful, and he waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "I don't know what's got you so edgy, but just so you can quit freaking out, it's my job to check on patients."

"W-what?"

"There are some people here who have been hospitalized their whole lives," Seth told him. "Their families never come to see them any more, and they are left alone here. Their condition gets worse and eventually, they die." His voice took on an angry edge as he spoke. "Sometimes, it helps when someone comes in with a gift of flowers, or when someone takes a moment from their day to speak with them, rather than letting the patient rot inside their rooms. I like to go remind them that there is at least someone who remembers them and that they are not alone."

Peter could relate to the feeling. How many times had he felt as though the hospital walls were nothing more than a cage that kept him from being free? He knew exactly what it felt like to be so bored that it was almost more unbearable than the pain of his sickness.

Seth was speaking again, though. "I'm sorry if my gesture to cheer you up didn't help at all. I won't do it again." He turned his heel then and began to walk away.

He had just made it to the doorway when he heard Peter say, "You would not want to be friends with someone like me."

The dark haired boy did not turn around. "Why not?"

"It would be...bad for both of us," Peter said, carefully. "Perhaps it would be better if you forgot you met me."

"What if we just pretend that you're not sick and that whatever it is that is dangerous to us doesn't exist?" Seth asked, optimistically. He faced Peter again, leaning against the doorway as he did so. "That way, you can keep your secrets and you can be whoever or whatever you want to be without limiting yourself."

He didn't expect a painful expression to cross Peter's features. "It won't change reality," the boy whispered.

"No, it won't," Seth agreed, "but it may help."

A friendship based on lies. That was what this stranger was suggesting. In some ways, he was right: Peter did not have to tell him anything and that could keep the both of them safe if ever someone inquired after him. He realized that he was lonely despite the fact that Sirius was with him. It wasn't that he disliked Sirius' company, but that he craved something more.

At the same time, he had never befriended a commoner before. The shyness was almost overwhelming, and he found himself looking away again. "Very well. On one condition."

Seth sounded amused. "And that is?"

"You will not ask me anything related to lineage." He forced himself to stare at the other boy evenly. "It's for your own good," he added.

Seth pursed his lips before nodding. "All right. No questions about family and all that. I got it. But can I at least ask for your name?"

"Name?" Peter parroted, trying to keep his panic from rising. His mind turned as he tried to think of one. He could not afford to give him any hint of his real one – he didn't even dare to give his family name despite the fact that _Pettigrew_ had been fabricated. Who knew what the enemy had read of him? "My name is…Lateo…Lateo Biri." He said at last, smiling to himself at the irony of the meaning behind the two words. Luckily, it didn't seem as though Seth understood it, because the boy merely grinned and nodded.

"Great, well, it's nice to finally know you, Lateo."

Peter gave him a shy smile back, and looked away again. Making friends was something he had yet to get used to.

Seeming to sense this, Seth held his hands up again. "I should let you get your rest. Maybe I'll come back and keep you some company later." The grin had not left his face and he added, "Of course, if your friend will let me."

Peter waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about him. Who I choose to be friends with is ultimately my decision. Though…he may have some of his own conditions…"

Again, Seth pursed his lips, and Peter knew that the boy was just bursting with questions that he would not ask because he would not be answered. Instead, he just nodded, and stepped back to leave, the material of his maroon-colored sweater snagging on a splinter in the doorway. He tugged it free absently and said, "I guess I'll be going, then. I'll catch you later, Lateo."

Peter adjusted himself on the bed, pulling his book closer to himself. "Until then," he mumbled, suddenly feeling very tired. The whole conversation had drained him of whatever emotions and energy he had left.

He fell back onto his pillows, and closed his eyes. His fatigue made it so that he couldn't even open them when he heard Sirius come into the room. "Peter, were you talking with someone just now?"

"Mmm…Seth Bailey…"

"Seth Bailey?" Sirius' voice sounded incredulous. "The one you said you were uncertain about?"

With great effort, Peter opened his eyes a crack. "Give me a moment, sir, and I will explain…"

**0-0-0-0-0**

A loud echoing crash of metal against metal brought Iris' head up with a snap.

Someone was coming!

But heavy footsteps were not the sounds she heard next. Instead, it was a quick pattering of feet, soft, barely audible against the grimy stone floors.

Carefully, she dragged herself toward the bars that held her prisoner, pressing her small face against the iron in an attempt to catch a glimpse.

No one had come down for three days straight, and she was hungry and frightened; she never could have imagined the darkness to be so terrible. It loomed on every corner of her small cell, chased back only slightly by a small light on the wall outside the bars.

Afraid to speak, Iris scanned the hallway fervently, hoping against hope to see someone – anyone – and be allowed a drink of water.

For the first few days, she had kicked and screamed, demanding to be let free, wanting to see Nam, but after a while, she stopped because she realized that the more she fought, the more she was left alone.

Maybe the noise had been her imagination playing tricks on her. It did that often, and sometimes when she would wake on her dingy cot in the corner, she would have trouble deciphering if she was still dreaming or if she was awake.

The coldness of the metal against her skin told her that at the moment, she was conscious. She gripped the bars tighter, as the footsteps came closer, stopping every so often, as though uncertain of their destination.

Then, "Iris?"

The voice broke through the silence, a hushed whisper with a tremor that was clearly audible.

Blake!

"I'm over 'ere!" Iris hissed, eagerly, pulling herself to her feet. "Blake, how did ye…"

"Shh!" Blake's alarmed shush made Iris' heart beat faster. When he finally came into view, she felt tears fill her eyes.

He looked very similar to her, with curly red hair and freckles, only his eyes were a light shade of blue which made his gaze seem somewhat dreamy. He was taller than her, his limbs having a gangly quality to them, all in all, giving him the appearance of an awkward, lanky child.

He was dressed in a pair of breeches and what looked like an apron, but in the dim lighting, she couldn't be quite sure.

"I have to be quick," he said, still in a whisper. "I came in to save you and Nam, but I had to dress up as a kitchen person to do it or else those soldiers would have had me thrown in here too. If they find out I'm missing, they might get suspicious."

"Whater 'bout Vic and Cody?"

"Vic didn't want to come – she said she was going straight to Mistress Salison and tell her what happened. Cody is here too, but he's hiding. He wanted to help but I told him not to get in the way," Blake reported.

"Have ye found Nam?" she asked, not taking the time to be surprised at Cody's sudden courage.

He was about to respond, but voices echoed clearly down the small corridor he was in, and he looked up, alarmed. Urgently, he held a finger up to his lips and pressed himself against the wall, trying to conceal himself from sight in the darkness – there was no where to run.

It was effective because two soldiers did not notice him at all, still talking to each other leisurely while they passed by her cell without even a glance in her direction. Their guttural language made Iris' skin crawl with the remembrance of the man who had ordered her capture.

Once they were gone, Blake slowly crept back into the light, nervously glancing about, listening intently. From his mouth, small pants came out in quick successions. He was scared, but so was Iris because her own breath matched his.

"I have to get you out of here…" he said, reaching into the apron he wore and coming out with a set of keys.

"How did ye…?"

"Nicked it from a soldier, I did!" Blake told her, triumphantly, his fingers shaking as he tried the first key. The clang of the metal made them both jump; it seemed to make a noise that was certain to alert the whole Palace.

They both listened intently for the soldiers to return, but when they didn't, Blake continued his actions, cursing softly when the lock did not turn. He quickly tried the next one, but it yielded the same response.

Iris looked at the ring, feeling her heart sink – there had to be at least 20 different keys on it. Which one was the right one? As if reading her mind, Blake said, "I couldn't tell which one opened your door, so I guess I'll have to try all of them."

Great, but there wasn't any time for that.

"Hurry," she whispered, urgently, shaking the iron bars slightly. "Please hurry!"

"I'm trying!" Her friend cried, his voice feverishly panicked. It would only be a few minutes before the Stairwell Guard noticed his keys were missing. Blake hadn't thought about how he could return them without him noticing. His fingers trembled and it felt like an eternity between each key that was inserted and turned.

When they finally heard the soft click of the latch opening, both children let out sighs of relief, and Blake threw the door open, grabbing her hand. "Come on!" He said, turning to run, but stopping short when he nearly collided with someone twice his size.

The ring of keys he was holding fell to the floor with a clatter, but no one paid any attention to it.

Iris bit back a scream, her breath leaving her lungs in a gasp, as they looked up to see the two soldiers from earlier, looking down at them.

The first one sounded bewildered. "What on earth?"

"What do we have here?" The other one asked at the same time.

Both Iris and Blake exchanged the briefest of glances, and then, as though on the same trail of thought, they split apart and made a run for it.

Momentarily caught off guard, the soldiers stood motionless in surprise, but quickly recovered and ran after them, their heavy footsteps drowning out the sound of their smaller, lighter ones.

The children knew that it was impossible to get away, but they kept the chase up, until they reached the end of the corridor, backs pressed against the wall, their fingers finding each other and holding tight.

"A kitchen boy…" the first soldier said, seeing Blake for the first time in the light. His accent was thick, and he glowered at them from beneath bushy eyebrows. His upper lip was pulled up into a snarl.

"No, he must be one of _them_," his fellow soldier said, taking on the same facial grimace. "The whole Palace is probably swarming with them."

The first soldier reached out and grabbed Blake by the collar of his uniform, ripping the children's hands free of each other. "How many of you are there? Did _they_ send you?" He growled, his face so close that Blake could feel the whiskers of the man's beard brush his chin.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" Blake whimpered. And truly, he didn't.

Who were _they_?

"Don't play dumb, boy!" The soldier proceeded to smack him against the wall, so hard that his head whipped back and hit it with a nasty thud. "How many?"

"Please, leave him alone!" Iris cried. "He dunnot know anything!"

That made the man round on her. "You - trying to escape?"

She felt her knees wobble, as she tried to think of a way to save her friend, whom the soldier still had a tight grip on. Blake looked as though he were suffocating. "Let him go!" Without thinking, she flung herself against the soldier's big, burly arm, and tried to dislodge it.

The other soldier picked her off him like an insignificant paper doll. "Toma will want to know about this," he said to his partner. "There's no telling how much information they have…"

They began to speak in their guttural way again, the words becoming a mangled sound in Iris' ears. She couldn't tell whether they were arguing or congratulating each other for their catch; she didn't care to listen, thrashing against the hold on her. Blake twisted in his captive's grip in a similar fashion, only in pain and discomfort.

When the man's grip finally slackened, Blake crumpled into a heap at their feet, gasping and choking. He was given no time to recover, however, as he was pulled to his feet and the both of them were marched out of the hallway and up the long stairwell back up into the light.

Once there, it took a moment for Iris' eyes to adjust, her vision swimming as she saw the place filled with soldiers. Everywhere she looked she saw them, standing ramrod straight in their red uniforms, all at attention, looking ever alert.

Again, the guttural language that the soldiers used filled the floor, and she stumbled along in confusion as her captor moved with brisk steps. Despite the fear she felt, she could only think of how hungry she was. Her stomach growled loudly, and it caused the soldier who was dragging her to look down at her with an amused expression.

She didn't have the time to get angry though, because it was all she could do to keep up with his long strides. A quick check over her shoulder told her that Blake was being brought along too – at least she was not alone.

The rooms around her passed by in a blur, that she didn't have the time to dwell on where they were, or where they were heading.

Big ornate decorations greeted them at every turn. Grandiose staircases, arches and paintings that Iris could hardly believe existed were present and she wondered just how much use all the grandeur could possibly be. Did this all belong to one person?

All too soon, yet somehow not soon enough, Iris was dumped unceremoniously on the floor of a wide, spacious room. Luckily, a soft red carpet – red, again, she noted with a sour distaste – broke her fall.

She heard Blake cry out, and she turned in the direction of the sound, only to see her friend trembling from head to foot as he stared at something. Blake's face had gone pale, his dreamy blue eyes wide with fright.

So, she followed his gaze to see what he was looking at, only to hear herself cry out.

Toma Ridel, the same person who had ordered her capture, was looking down at her with his snake-like eyes, his face unreadable. Something about him made the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise and stand stiff.

This man was the boss, and he was trouble.

"Hello." Iris remembered his voice distinctly: nothing had ever sounded so venomous. It was all she could do to keep herself rooted to the floor as her body and mind screamed for her to run. But even if she tried, she was trembling too hard to even get to her feet, and she knew that running would not be the best idea.

Her mouth was dry and she didn't respond, too afraid to.

She flinched as his face floated closer. "What is your name?"

It was too long of a hesitation, it seemed, because Toma's eyes flicked to the side quickly and she heard Blake cry out as his captor pulled him to his feet and held him taught against his chest, a knife to his throat. Her friend's eyes were wide in disbelief and fear.

Seemingly satisfied, Toma returned his unsettling gaze on Iris again. "Your name?" he repeated, keeping his voice pleasant.

"I-Iris…"

When she offered nothing more, Toma prodded, "And your family name?"

"I dun got one," she mumbled. She looked to Blake again, and was disappointed to see that the soldier had not relaxed his threatening hold on her friend.

Toma's face remained blank as he studied her. "Who sent you?"

Perplexed, Iris answered, "I came here meself, sir."

Finally, a scowl crossed his face and he knelt down to speak with her at level. "I'll make this easy…Iris…" he flicked his gaze to the side again and heard Blake gasp as the knife moved from his throat to his fingers. "If you don't tell me the answers I want to hear, your little friend here will suffer. You don't want that, do you?"

Iris felt herself break into a cold sweat at the implication of his words. "Please, leave Blake alone…" she whispered, but her plea sounded weak in her ears.

What had she gotten them into?

"Is that his name? Blake?" Toma waited for her nod before smiling and she wished for his blank expression again; his smile made her shudder. "Well, I'm sure Blake would like to keep all his fingers, don't you?"

"Yer gonna chop 'em off?" Iris asked, horrified, forgetting her fears momentarily.

Toma's eyes turned big and wistful as he nodded. "I won't do anything to him if you cooperate with me, do you understand?"

"Yes sir…"

"Toma, please don't do this…" A voice from behind him pled, and for the first time, Iris realized that there was someone else in the room. A lean man, wearing fine clothing stood just a pace or two away. Around his head a golden circlet rested on coarse, light-brown hair that seemed to be graying.

The King.

Iris had never dreamed to see the King in person. And most definitely not like this. All she knew was that he was the one who funded the Orphanage that she had lived in the whole of her life and that he ran the whole country. Despite her predicament, she couldn't help but gawk in amazement – after all, it was not every day one got to be in the same room as the ruler of a country!

Toma ignored him, speaking with Iris again. "Where did you come from?"

"Outbridge Orphanage," she said, and then quickly added, "Sir."

"How many came with you?"

"It was me an' another boy named Nam. Sir."

"And that was it?"

"That's it, sir," Iris confirmed. She did not expect to hear Blake scream in agony and she turned to see her friend writhing in the soldier's grasp, the hand where the knife had been poised was bloody, and where his pinky finger once was there now remained a stump. She forced herself not to look at the floor, where she knew she'd see something that would make her faint.

Heart thudding in her chest, she whirled to face Toma. "But you said that - !"

"How many came with you?" Toma asked, still in that sweet voice of his.

"I told you! Just me an' another boy named Nam!" Her own voice had risen an octave higher. Behind her, she could hear Blake's screams continue, and she felt tears run down her cheeks.

What did he want? What more did he want her to say?

The King took a step forward, but stopped when Toma said, "This is the last time I'll ask you," his grin had disappeared, "How many came with you?"

"We was…we…" Iris was trembling so hard now that she could hardly speak. "We was five of us…we was just playing…I wanted ter see…an' only Nam came wi' me! An' Blake came to get us out…" Her sentences ran together in a mush of words, as she tried to give him all she knew.

She winced when this time, she heard the steel cut through the bone of another of Blake's fingers. His wail filled the room and Iris was certain she would go mad with the sound of it. "Please stop! That's all I know! That's all I know!!!" her hands had come up to cover her ears.

"Toma! That's enough!" She heard the King order.

"Sending in children is not a wise idea, Your Majesty," Toma said, his voice now cold. Without looking at the soldier, he ordered, "Kill him – keep the girl alive."

Before the girl or the King could so much as move, Blake's wails cut short, ending in a gurgle before his lifeless body slipped from the soldier's grip, and Iris screamed at the sight.

Why? Blake hadn't done anything wrong!

In shock, Matheson stared at the body, his hands reaching out to grab the little girl and press her face into his robes. No one should have to witness such a scene, especially a young child. The blood soaked into the red carpet, making it look as though Blake had been a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut, his corpse lying in a heap on the floor.

"Did you think I wouldn't hurt little ones?" Toma sneered and Matheson, pale, clenched his fists.

"You're sick, Toma! How could you?"

The cool façade that the Russian General had just barely managed to maintain, slipped away at last, a cruel mask replacing the calm features he had had just a moment before. "I will stop at nothing, Your Grace – even children will not be spared from my plans. You may try to have your situation known by the world, but I will not let it. By the time it is realized, it will already be too late."

"I had no intention of making my situation known!" Matheson said, his face going red. "These are not children from the Academy, Toma! You heard it from the maiden's lips – there was no informant. They had no knowledge of anything!" His arms crushed Iris' quavering form against him in a futile attempt to comfort her; her screams were muffled in the material of his robes "What more do you want? You have control of my army…you have the Academy at your mercy. And you have me to hide behind as you commit your felonies."

"No!" Toma's roar made Matheson take a step back. "I am missing the most important piece, Your Majesty! And without him, I may as well surrender my army and turn myself in."

"I don't understand…"

"Your _son_, Matheson! Where is your son?"

At the mention of Peter, Matheson's blood drained from his face. After his Army (which he had been forced to station at H.W. Academy) had reported that Peter was not within the school walls, Toma had grown livid and had ordered every road blocked, all the cities and towns checked, and all the passes to and from the Academy guarded.

Of course, without Peter, the Russian General lost his greatest advantage over the King, whom Toma knew would do anything for the safety of his precious son.

The heir to the Throne.

The _only_ heir to the Throne.

Somehow, Peter had managed to escape, and it seemed, according to the Army, that no one knew of his whereabouts. No one spoke of him or even noticed his absence and when questioned, they would be completely oblivious. Even James seemed to be in the dark in his written letters.

But Matheson knew better. If anything, he was certain that James had had a hand in Peter's sudden disappearance, and the fact that Sirius Black had also disappeared confirmed it.

_James is smart_, Matheson thought. _He has managed to get them out of the Academy and leave no strings attached to himself in order to keep the secret safe_. According to the Army, it looked as though Sirius had been the one to spirit Peter away without a word to anyone. Questioning the students at the Academy would not only prove to be long and difficult (not to mention fruitless) but risky to the actual hostage situation of the King of England.

Toma could not afford to slip up, Matheson knew. The Russian General would have to try and keep his covert operation a secret for as long as possible if he wanted to succeed in taking over the country.

His plan, as devious as it was cunning, was to rule England by holding the King hostage. After which, he wanted to take England's Army, along with his homeland's, and crush Russia, turning against his own people in his lust for power.

The man really was sick.

"I told you, I had no idea Peter was not in the Academy," Matheson said, swiping his hand across his forehead again. "You read the letters from Sir James yourself: he told us Peter was within the walls. As you've been guarding my actions every day, there is no possible way I could have connived an escape or a communication with anyone at the school."

Toma had begun to pace, as was his habit when he was agitated. Of course, the King spoke true: there was not a day that he was not under surveillance. Everything that came to and from the Palace was checked, so even written letters were monitored closely.

"Then I will have to take a new course of action," the General said, at last. "Since my greatest leverage has gone missing, I will use the next one." This time, Toma's smile was sadistic and he rubbed his hands together, in a gleeful manner. "Just as Ivan, I will hold the students within the Academy hostage as well, so that you will have every reason to listen to me.

"If you so much as refuse to do as I say, then you can be sure that every one of those children will die – and don't think I won't have the _heart_." He laughed at the word's ironic connotation. "Children are so very fragile, Your Majesty. They are easy to hurt if you're not paying attention…so, might I suggest you be careful? Very careful?"

Shaking in rage, Matheson remembered the way Toma had so casually ordered Blake's death without blinking an eye. He truly had no heart. "I will do whatever you want," he managed to say, through clenched teeth.

Toma was suddenly all smiles though his pale face and narrowed eyes made him look like a madman at a science exhibit. "Good! And just to show you how serious I am," he turned to the remaining guard who had killed Blake on command and barked, "Take Iris to a holding cell. I may yet have more questions for her," he smirked at the child's clipped cry as she was pulled away from the only source of protection she could possibly have. Matheson watched helplessly as the soldiers dragged the child away out of the room.

"If nothing else, she will be useful in persuading the King's hand." And then, began to laugh as though he had told the funniest joke in the world.

**To Be Continued…

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**

**AN:** Wow, that was a very long chapter. The longest I have ever written for this story, I believe. I hope you enjoyed it! Your reviews would make me very happy. After having my laptop AND my ipod stolen, I need happiness very badly right now… if this chapter made you happy, do let me know! That alone would make me smile!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	12. The Hourglass Sands

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies…

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**AN: **Major thanks goes out to my best friend, Pauolo, for helping me out in this chapter. Sucks to be me with a terrible internet connection. On that note, HAPPY NEW YEAR to all! I do apologize for my lack of updates for the past couple of months. I don't intend for it to happen again. That said,

Onward.

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_Previously: _

"_Your __**son**__, Matheson! Where is your son?" Toma demanded._

"_I told you, I had no idea Peter was not in the Academy," Matheson said, swiping his hand across his forehead again. "You read the letters from Sir James yourself: he told us Peter was within the walls. As you've been guarding my actions every day, there is no possible way I could have connived an escape or a communication with anyone at the school."_

_Toma had begun to pace, as was his habit when he was agitated. Of course, the King spoke true: there was not a day that he was not under surveillance. Everything that came to and from the Palace was checked, so even written letters were monitored closely._

"_Then I will have to take a new course of action," the General said, at last. "Since my greatest leverage has gone missing, I will use the next one." This time, Toma's smile was sadistic and he rubbed his hands together, in a gleeful manner. "Just as Ivan, I will hold the students within the Academy hostage as well, so that you will have every reason to listen to me._

"_If you so much as refuse to do as I say, then you can be sure that every one of those children will die – and don't think I won't have the __heart__." He laughed at the word's ironic connotation. "Children are so very fragile, Your Majesty. They are easy to hurt if you're not paying attention…so, might I suggest you be careful? Very careful?"_

_He turned to the remaining guard who had killed Blake on command and barked, "Take Iris to a holding cell. I may yet have more questions for her," he smirked at the child's clipped cry as she was pulled away from the only source of protection she could possibly have. Matheson watched helplessly as the soldiers dragged the child away out of the room._

"_If nothing else, she will be useful in persuading the King's hand." And then, began to laugh as though he had told the funniest joke in the world._

_

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**Chapter 12**

**- The Hourglass Sands -**

Iris sucked back sobs as she was dragged by her elbows. The soldiers' grip on her arms hurt her, and because she could not keep up with them, her legs stumbled about and she tripped constantly, cutting her knees open as she was pulled across the floor.

They were travelling back down the stairs to the dungeons again, and she twisted hard against their hold, but to no avail. The prison door gaped at them like a monster, and she was thrown inside, the iron slamming shut leaving a ringing sound in her head. She pulled in vain at the bars that held her prisoner once again. "Let me out!" she screamed, her voice echoing down the narrow hallway. "Please let me out!!!"

She knew no one would answer her, but she yelled again. Didn't any of these men have compassion?

Frantically, she reached one of her skinny arms through the bars and tried poking one of her fingers into the keyhole to her prison, but only resulting in tearing half her nail off. She jerked her hand back, hissing in pain.

She had to get out of here!

"I wanter go 'ome!" she pled, bitterly, to no one, as she sank to her knees. It was useless. If only she hadn't insisted on climbing the walls. If only she hadn't been captured, Blake would still be alive.

The memory of his lifeless eyes staring at her made her stumble to the corner, curl up into a ball and begin to vomit. When her stomach had given up all it could yield, she retched miserably –she'd be damned if she ended up like Blake. A burning anger stirred in her at the remembrance of the cruel laughter that came from Toma's lips as though the man thought taking people's lives was a game.

Oh, how Iris hated him!

She let the fury consume her, goading it on with images of Toma suffering, of his cruel face twisted in agony and shock. The comfort that it brought was minimal, but she clung to it, choosing to wallow in anger than in sadness. She recoiled from the memory of Blake's screams of pain, instead, imagining them to be the Russian General's.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Iris wandered back to the bars, still hoping that somehow, she could find a way free. Again, she tried to rattle the iron bars, knowing that she'd have the same result. If she didn't get out of there, she would no doubt have to face Toma again, and she was loath to do that. Who knew how soon he would summon her back upstairs?

For some reason, she was reminded of an hourglass. She had only ever seen one in a display at a museum that the Orphanage had taken a trip to. Along with the other children, they had watched as each grain counted the hour and once the sands had run dry at one end, it would simply be flipped over so that they could continue their journey back into the column from where they had just come.

Her hourglass was running low, she knew.

A sudden clatter in the darkness behind her made her jump and let out a frightened squeak. When she whirled to see what it was, she hit the bars behind her with such force that they shuddered against her weight. Her shoulders and back screamed in pain, but she didn't care.

"Iris!"

It took Iris a moment to calm her irregular heart beat to recognize the voice. It came from the narrow opening of a barred window in the corner of her cell.

"C-Cody?!"

Cody pushed against it, his eyes wide with fright, his blond hair tousled and windswept.

She remembered Blake saying that Cody had come with him, but had been told to hide. So what was he doing here, of all places?

She rushed under the window. "What are ye doing 'ere?"

Cody whispered, hardly audible. Iris had to strain to hear him. "I came here when I heard they were taking you back to your holding cell." His voice wavered – he was on the verge of tears.

Despite her situation, Iris felt herself grow upset. "What are ye doing? Ye should've gotten away!"

Cody flinched at her hiss, and he mumbled, "I followed Blake because…" he hesitated before admitting, "because I was scared to be left alone…" He paused again, shifting his weight slightly. "Then I saw what happened to you guys. But I couldn't follow you up there because of all those soldiers. When I heard you were coming back here…" he trailed off, tilting his head to the side. "Where's Blake?"

Iris looked away, her thoughts swirling as he spoke. For some reason, she felt as though there was no way out now – no escape. When Blake had died, there had been some hope that at least Cody had gotten away because his presence was not known in the Palace. Now, that hope was going to be lost, too, and there was nothing she could do about it. She gritted her teeth against the wave of anguish that rose in her. "Blake's…not 'ere…" she lied. "He was put…somer else."

Cody's eyes widened at seeing the tears roll down Iris' cheeks. It was rare to see the person he considered their group's leader crying. Usually, she was strong and confident but now, her shoulders were slumped and her head hung in despair. "Iris…" he began to say, but she glared at him from under her bangs.

"Ye should run while ye 'ave the chance," she said. "If you dun, there's no escape. If 'e finds you 'ere…" she shuddered at the thought of what would happen.

"Who?" Cody asked, in a small voice.

She sighed swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks this time, in an absent manner. "It dun matter none…" she said, glancing over her shoulder at the ever-present iron bars that continually mocked her from their position. "Ye've got ter get outer here!…"

"No way! Not without you!" Cody cried. "We could run away, together!"

He was still a child. He didn't seem to understand. A part of her wanted to get angry while the other wanted nothing more than to shield him from the reality of it all. Instead, she stared up at him, trying to stop the tears from coming again. "We can't – _I_ can't! There's no way outta 'ere…the door's locked."

"Will this help?" Cody asked, reaching back to pull at something behind his – Iris just noticed it now – overly large sweater that he had no doubt stolen from the Mats of the Palace. In the darkness, she couldn't make out what color it was or the material it was spun from. That little problem ceased to matter all together when she saw what he held in his hand: it was the ring of keys to her cell.

"How did ye…?"

"Blake dropped them," Cody told her. "I got them when they were taking you up..."

It took a moment for Iris to realize what the boy was telling her. "If could …" he was saying, but Iris interrupted him in a harsh whisper.

"No! Cody, ye'd get caught! Get outer 'ere!"

Cody frowned. "Iris…I don't want to leave you!" Fat tears began to leak from his eyes and she knew that he'd start to cry. If that happened, he was sure to be found. As desperately as she wanted him to stay, to keep her company, she forced herself to be strong. She had gotten herself into this, after all. She scowled up at him fiercely.

"Give 'em keys 'ere," she ordered, wagging her fingers. She wondered briefly whether he could see the blood on them.

Obediently, Cody reached through the bars and dropped the keys toward her outstretched hand. She was barely able to catch them without making a sound. Terrified, they both listened to see if their arguing had been heard. When the coast seemed to be clear, she spoke quickly. "Now, make a run fer it while ye still can," she told him. "I'll figure a way to get outer 'ere. Climb the wall, Cody, like ye did the first time."

He began to protest, his bottom lip trembling again. "But what if I…"

Oh fer goodness sake! Iris thought. She was near desperate to get him out and all he could do was stand there and tremble. "Dun be sucher baby!" She hissed. "Ye can do it! I'll meet with ye back at the Orphanage, I promise. Now git!"

Cody seemed to hesitate before he got up. "Iris…you promised…" he mumbled, at last. "I'll see you at the Orphanage."

Trying to sound confident, she replied, "Yes, yes," though it must be confessed that the thought of him leaving terrified her. In a matter of moments he was gone, though, and there was nothing left to do but to try her luck at getting away.

Like someone fevered, she paced for a few moments, before heading back to the bars of her cell to wait tensely, each muscle in her body locked rigid as she listened to every sound that might indicate that someone was coming down to get her. It felt like an eternity before she began to move, trying out the different keys in the keyhole. She was trembling from head to foot and at times she would stop what she was doing and listen intently again.

Suddenly, the door clicked open and Iris let out a small whoop of victory before swallowing the overwhelming fear that suddenly came up to choke her.

If she got caught…well, she'd just have to make a run for it.

And run very, _very_ fast.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"Does it hurt incredibly, Peter?" Sirius was by his bedside again, looking at his friend's sallow face. Today, instead of the pale color that it usually was, it was more of a yellowish shade. The boy had suddenly collapsed during his physiotherapy session and was now lying down in the hospital bed, trying to recover.

"No," Peter said, sounding groggy. They had pumped him so full of painkillers his head was spinning.

Frustrated, Sirius glanced at the tubes that were attached to Peter's body and to monitors that hung above and around the boy's sick bed. He didn't understand what all the numbers and lines were for, but he wished with a sudden vengeance that he could rip them away. They were like intruders making his friend look like an alien of some sort.

Even Sirius was getting sick of staying in the Hospital day in and day out. The operation was supposed to be a success, but for some reason or another, the new liver was not cooperating. Instead of being problem-free, it was proving to give more troubles than was necessary.

"You should sleep…" Sirius said, his hands hovering uselessly over the cables and wires. "I'll go speak with the doctors and find out what went wrong." But Peter was already too far gone that he probably didn't hear Sirius' words at all. His eyes had glazed over and were half-closed, his right hand twitching every so often, probably in response to the amount of drugs he was receiving.

Not wanting to leave his bedside, Sirius glanced once more at the monitors and stood up.

Earlier that day, he had received news that a new regiment of Russian soldiers had made its way into the town and were starting to set up camps along the perimeter of Hogsmeade and Farsweid. That did not bide well with Sirius at all – they were too close for comfort, and he was already starting to plan a way to escape, knowing full well that sooner or later they would be discovered.

It didn't help that Peter was still not yet recovered.

He wasn't given a chance to dwell on those thoughts for very long because Doctor Fiorelli, the same doctor who had taken care of Peter since he was a baby, came in, holding charts and pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his long nose.

"What news, doctor?" Sirius demanded, skipping formalities all together in his anxiety.

"Ah, Sir Sirius…" Doctor Fiorelli was a jolly fellow, one whom Peter had so often talked about fondly, and Sirius could see why. No matter the situation, it appeared that the man could remain calm, somehow passing that feeling on to whomever it was he was talking to. "I was just checking Peter's reports - "

"-He was getting better," Sirius said, impatiently. "What happened? All of a sudden…"

The doctor coughed as if to remind Sirius that he had been rudely interrupted and said, "Yes, he was. Unfortunately, our tests show that his new liver was unable to filter out certain toxins and they have found their way into his bloodstream."

A new wave of dread washed over the Gryffindor as he listened. "But we've taken to giving him medication to help rid his system of the harmful material and boost his liver into working properly," Fiorelli continued. "Peter should be fine in a few days' time. After which, we will monitor him for another couple of weeks. Should he pass our tests, I see no reason to keep him here any longer and if you so desire, you may leave.

"However, his best course of action right now is to rest and relax. I'm afraid he's been pushing himself too hard and wearing himself out. That is not good at all for a body that has been struggling to repair internal damage. If he doesn't take it easy, his recovery time will be that much longer."

"We don't have time to sit around here," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Doctor, if word gets out…"

"No one here knows of his status but me," Doctor Fiorelli said, stoutly. "And I'll be damned if I were to give it up. Trust me when I say I want the both of you out of harm's way as soon as possible, so, Sir Sirius, I beg you to keep this child from over-exerting himself. It shan't do him any good in the long run, I tell you. He might not recover at all."

Sirius nodded, gravely. "I'll do whatever I can, Doctor. In the meantime, I need to ask you a favor."

Doctor Fiorelli flipped his clipboard closed. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like a map of the Hospital Grounds, sir."

"Going to find an escape route just in case of trouble?"

"Yes," said Sirius, "and preferably before it finds us."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Celena stood by the windows of the Drawing Room, her head tilted slightly on an angle as she gazed up at the night sky. Each star shone brightly like jewels that were scattered on a black canopy; the perfect backdrop to make them look even more beautiful.

She turned as the door to the room opened and was surprised to see James stride in, books tucked under his arms. He froze when he saw her and then broke

into a warm smile.

Before dinner she had changed into a long white dress – her favorite shade to don because Sirius had once complimented her on how elegant she looked in it – and the material of it swished as she strode to embrace her elder brother.

"My Lady, I didn't expect to see you here," he said, when they parted.

"The same goes for you," Celena said. She offered him no more explanation, instead, glancing back out the window.

Outside, the Academy grounds held pockets of students that were headed off towards their respective destinations. Some of them had taken to gathering together on the benches in the gardens, talking and laughing.

"I thought to do some studying," James said, indicating his books with a small gesture. "I did not think to find anyone within."

"Perhaps I should leave," Celena suggested, beginning to pull away from the windowsill, but James shook his head.

"That's quite all right. I feel I must take the opportunity to exchange words with you now for I'm afraid I have been too busy to do so lately. I apologize."

She took hold of his arm, resting her head against his shoulder. The siblings had always been close to each other because there had been no one else to rely on when they had been growing up. James loved her dearly, she knew, and she returned the love just as fiercely.

"I'm glad to see you're doing well," James noted. And indeed she looked it: he would never have guessed she would be so at home at the Academy with all the scars she bore from the year before.

Celena caught his meaning and smoothed her dress by her legs out. "I am well, thank you," she said. "I have grown accustomed to life here."

"And the people?" he prodded.

"The people are very nice," she allowed, tucking a strand of her dark hair back, absently. "I'm not afraid of them any more."

He let out a breath and said sincerely, "Then I'm glad for that, my sister."

She dug her fingers into the material of his uniform's overcoat as a thought occurred to her. "Sir James, tell me true: is there still a threat?"

Her eyes bore into his, searching, probing: he couldn't lie. "There is, my Lady," he said at last. "Whatever you do, stay away from the King's Army and if they ask you questions, you have naught to fear from them as you know nothing. If they hurt you…" Unconsciously, his fingers lifted the sword at his hip a few inches out of its scabbard as he trailed off, unable to finish the thought because of the anger that inundated him.

Her hands came out to cover his, pushing the sword back down. "It will not come to that, Sir James," she whispered, softly.

He gently disentangled himself from her grasp and walked toward the fireplace, whose embers were still red-hot from the fire that had just finished burning. Soon, the room would become stone cold, and he tried to start the fire up again. Celena watched him, noticing the distress of his actions and the dark rings that framed his blue eyes. "What are you thinking of?" she asked at last, when he had straightened from his crouch, still holding onto the smoking poker.

"The Festival is in two days," he stated, simply, as though that were answer enough.

"Yes," Celena agreed, and she sounded eager when she did. He found he could not return her smile.

He put the poker back into its place by the hearth and ran his hands through his hair. It had grown longer over the past few weeks so that it fell to just below his jaw line in a fashion similar to Sirius' and he made a mental note to himself to get it cut.

Whoever said that it was only the females who had hair problems?

"There is a chance…" he began to say, but seeing her excited expression, he changed his sentence midway, trying to put as much enthusiasm into it as possible. No, he could not tell her that the Festival would be cancelled, so instead he said, "…that Sirius and Peter may be able to return for it." He kicked himself inwardly at his lame excuse.

It was a relief to see that she bought his lie. As much as possible, James never wanted to see his sister disappointed so he forced himself to grin back, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. "I'm glad for that," she was saying, when he managed to get himself to listen to her. "It has been a long time since we've last seen them. Sir Peter must be doing fine, now."

"We can only pray, so," James told her. In truth, he hoped that it was the case because it would be very hard for Sirius if Peter was still incapacitated if they were to be on the run. He decided he did not want to dwell on the topic because it would surely lead the conversation back to the upcoming war. Instead, he looked at the piano which was sitting in the shadows, open but untouched.

"Shall I play you a piece, my brother?" she asked, following his trail of sight.

He nodded. "I'd like that, thanks."

In a matter of moments, soft music filtered around the room, the sound comforting, washing away some of his anxiety, and James curled up on one of the couches, beginning to read through the material to Professor Tibbald's History lesson.

Abruptly, the music stopped when someone entered the room a little while later. James, hearing the distraction, glanced up from his notes. Seeing who it was, he pushed himself to his feet. "Lily?"

At the doorway, Lily stood uncertainly, one hand on the brass knob, the other fisting her red cape in an attempt to keep it from latching onto something as it so often liked to do. Taking a step back, she apologetically cast them both a smile. "Oh, sorry…" she mumbled. She hadn't expected that there would be anyone else besides him in the room. "Master Edmund wants to speak with you, James."

James sighed. So ended his peaceful evening. He closed his book and turned to fix his sword at his hip, thoughtfully. If the Headmaster was calling on him, it must have been because of the letter he had received from the King not too long ago. He had not yet been able to express his thoughts about it to the man.

Celena looked from one to the other, not missing the fact that appellations had been dropped in their short exchange. When an awkward feeling hung in the air, she too, got to her feet. "It has been a while," she greeted Lily, with a small curtsy. "I trust you are well?"

Lily's answering bow was not as graceful or as becoming. "The Elites are as busy as ever," was the response. "I haven't seen much of anybody lately."

"That is to be expected," Celena said. "From what I've heard, it's no easy task."

At that, Lily laughed. "You can say that again! I really don't know how I've managed to keep up so far."

"Being as talented as you are, no doubt," Celena said, brightly. "Sir James, you should not keep your Lady waiting."

Lily took another step back. "Take your time," she said, sympathetically. "I'm sorry that I interrupted you guys."

James, however, had begun to gather his things together. "No, I'll be along right this moment." To his sister, he said, "I will see you soon, Lady Celena. Please don't think ill of me for leaving you so abruptly."

His sister shook her head. "Nonsense, sir. I shan't want to take away from your time together, as limited as it seems to be. I'm sure that having an Elite as a Lady friend is not easy."

The blush that spread across her brother's face was endearing, and he coughed dryly when he could find no words to retort. "I'm sorry I never informed you."

Celena seemed to positively glow as she gazed at the two of them, fondly. "I am happy for you," she told them.

This time, Lily blushed too when she finally understood what the conversation was about.

"I could not want anything more," James said, looking to Lily in admiration.

"Yes, it is a perfect gift, I'm afraid I cannot top it," Celena said, in approval. "Mine pales in comparison."

Lily was confused. "Gift?" she repeated.

She failed to notice James' bleak look and apparently, so did Celena because the girl gushed, "Oh, yes, mine was rather dull – as he became of age, everything of our Estate has passed onto him. It's quite hard to figure out what to give to an Heir to the Potter wealth."

Lily did a double take.

Became of age?

When did that happen?

Celena, still oblivious to James' discomfort, ploughed on. "I finally managed to get my hands on the original _La_ _Lune_, for him."

"_La_ _Lune_? By Pierre Lanceau?" Lily asked, shocked. That was worth millions! Having been brought up in Paris, France, there was no way she had not heard of one of the most coveted, most admired art pieces.

"The very one," said Celena, proudly. "My brother does love masterpieces. We shall have it hung in the foyer to greet the guests as they come."

At that, James cleared his throat, uneasily. "Guests? Oh no…" he sounded horrified.

"You will not be able to talk Mother out of it, I'm afraid," Celena told him. "One only becomes of age once, after all."

James forced a smile on his face. "So she is returning for the event?"

"Of course!" his sister said. "Father will be present as well!"

Now Lily couldn't keep up at all. "Wait, wait," she held her hands out, to stop them from talking. "Event? What event? When did you '_become of age'_?"

Celena seemed to be a bit apprehensive. "Lady Lily, don't tell me he didn't tell you…" she trailed off when she saw James' upset look.

"Tell me what?" Lily demanded. She rounded on him. "James?"

"It isn't really a big deal," James mumbled, shooting a baleful look at his sister who smiled apologetically. "It was my birthday a few weeks ago."

"Your birthday?" Lily demanded.

"There were a lot of things going on," was the protest. "I meant to tell you but it slipped my mind."

Lily frowned and raised an eyebrow. "So, becoming of age isn't a big thing?" When James never answered, she looked pointedly at Celena.

"It's…a very big thing," the girl confirmed after a slight hesitation. "It means that he can now handle all our estate affairs. It also means that he can get married and withhold our family line." There was an uncomfortable silence as her words sank in.

James ran his hands through his hair, obviously uncomfortable with the current topic. He didn't know whether he preferred talk of the war or of his upcoming birthday celebration.

Luckily, his sister seemed to sense his apprehension because she clapped her hands together lightly. "Dear me," said she, "but I have kept you here for long enough! You two had best be on your way."

Gratefully, James nodded and proceeded to herd Lily out of the room. She seemed reluctant but did not object when he closed the door behind them and took up the lead.

By that time, all the hallways were deserted, everyone either still within the dining hall, or already within their Branch Towers. All the classrooms they passed by were dark and foreboding, the moonlight streaming through the open windows making long shadows of the furniture. Silhouettes of the King's Army could be seen too, a reminder of their ever-present guard.

Unconsciously, Lily stepped closer to James. If there was one thing she was afraid of (next to spiders and reptiles) it was dark, enclosed spaces.

James turned his head slightly and did not comment, leading them up a flight of stairs and stopping by the landing by a linen closet that stood slightly ajar, displaying white sheets within.

Lily nearly collided with him but he put his hands to her shoulders. "About my birthday…don't be upset," James whispered, his expression pained.

She shrugged off his hands. "I didn't even get to greet you." She made a face and he sighed, taking her hand in his.

"Lily, I didn't mean to keep it from you, really I didn't. Everyone else made such a big fuss over it but if you ask me, there's nothing that makes it different from any other birthday."

"Except that you have inherited all your family's wealth," Lily pointed out.

"All the more responsibility I'd rather not deal with right now," James assured her. "I promise I won't hold such important information like this from you again, in the future."

"You'd better not!" Lily warned, squeezing his hand in emphasis. "So what is this event Lady Celena was talking about?"

The pained expression did not leave his face, and she felt dread build up in the pit of her stomach when he seriously said, "Say you'll accompany me to my celebration? My mother insists upon throwing one and would not have it otherwise."

Lily recoiled at the thought. "A party? Ugh!" She turned her face away at the reminder of her embarrassment the night of the Masquerade. So far, parties at high, social gatherings had not been very good experiences in her book. She wasn't sure she was up to another one. And his Coming of Age celebration, at that.

He chuckled at her reaction. "I can introduce you to my parents at the time. Lady Celena did mention that they would go out of their way to attend. I'm sure they will be pleased with you."

_Pleased with her?_ What was she, some sort of horse they were buying? Lily didn't know whether or not to feel insulted or terrified. After all, she didn't exactly meet the pure-blood status that most Noble Houses demanded. Her own mother had been forced to divorce her father because of that very thing, so she couldn't help feeling anxious.

James saw a dark look flit over her face at his words, and he instantly regretted them. "My Lady, everything will be fine, you'll see."

"Lily, remember? We're doing away with titles," was Lily's lame attempt at relieving the tension she felt.

"Sorry," he breathed, giving her a half smile. "Say you'll come."

"If I'm going to your birthday party, what on earth will I wear? I can't impress your parents if I look plain. It's bad enough that I won't be able to get you an extravagant birthday gift. Lady Celena gave you _La_ _Lune_, for goodness sake!" Her mood was plummeting. Nice girlfriend she was turning out to be. She didn't even know what his interests were!

James kneaded her hand in his. "Lily, you don't have to impress anybody. My parents will have to take you as you are, the way I have. And your being there is gift enough for me. There's nothing else I shall want."

Lily raised her eyebrow at that. "Nothing? Well, of course," she said, more to herself than to him, "you've got everything already. What's next, a castle?"

He pouted, and it looked damned cute on him. "Well, I don't have _everything_. And now that you mention it, there is something that I'd like that only you can give me."

Eagerly, Lily leaned forward. "What? I hope I can afford it."

"Oh, you can definitely afford it," James said, grinning.

"You don't mind that it'll be a little late?" She asked, worriedly.

He chuckled again and put his hand on her waist, drawing her closer. "It's better late than never…" he quoted. She made a humming sound and he touched his forehead to hers, beseeching her with his eyes for a long moment before he pressed his lips against hers hesitantly.

She froze at the contact, and he sensed it so he started to pull away. Her hand on his upper arm stopped him though, and this time, it was he who made the humming sound when she tiptoed to kiss him back.

It was short but it made James' head spin, and when it was over, he stared at her in both shock and amusement.

Blushing, Lily took a step back, nearly bumping into the open closet behind them, fisting her cape in her right hand again in case it decided to hook onto something and ruin the moment.

As if she wasn't embarrassed enough.

"Happy Belated Birthday," she murmured.

A stupid, silly grin plastered itself onto his face. "Thank you. I suddenly wish my next birthday will come so that I might get another wonderful present."

She laughed and swat his arm before stalking away.

No, she was definitely not like other Ladies.

Still grinning, he jogged after her. "So…the problem of the gift has been resolved. _Now_ will you accompany me?"

Lily turned to look at him over her shoulder, not breaking a stride. "You are impossible, you know that, James?" At his answering wink, she laughed again and said, "I'll be there, don't worry about it."

The fear of going to a party paled in comparison to the thought of a war.

She could handle it.

She hoped.

**To Be Continued…**

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**AN:** This chapter was the hardest one to write of all. I honestly just didn't feel inspired enough to write and I had to keep re-writing it over and over again. I had thought to just give up all together. However, thanks to your reviews and messages, I finally managed to get something done.

For all those who put this story on alerts, favorites and C2s, I thank you. For all those who reviewed, I really appreciate it! This goes out to you, and I hope you enjoyed. See? A much happier ending than the last chapter. If you liked it, please do let me know. Next update won't take nearly as long (I hope). My schedule is jam-packed this term and I can hardly find the time to sit in front of my computer, much less get any writing done. Let's all hope for the best!

Until the next update, thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	13. Forward

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…

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_

**AN:** Wow, this chapter was so difficult to write. Major thanks goes out to my best friend Paoulo yet again for his help and patience as I whined and complained about this chapter. And of course, to you, my readers and reviewers.

Onward.

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_Previously: __  
"What news, doctor?" Sirius demanded, skipping formalities all together in his anxiety._

"_Ah, Sir Sirius…" Doctor Fiorelli looked up from his clipboard at the sound of the younger man's voice, "I was just checking Peter's reports - "_

"_-He was getting better," Sirius said, impatiently. "What happened? All of a sudden…"_

_The doctor coughed as if to remind Sirius that he had been rudely interrupted and said, "Yes, he was. Unfortunately, our tests show that his new liver was unable to filter out certain toxins and they have found their way into his bloodstream."_

_A new wave of dread washed over the Gryffindor as he listened. "But we've taken to giving him medication to help rid his system of the harmful material and boost his liver into working properly," Fiorelli continued. "Peter should be fine in a few days' time. After which, we will monitor him for another couple of weeks. Should he pass our tests, I see no reason to keep him here any longer and if you so desire, you may leave._

"_However, his best course of action right now is to rest and relax. I'm afraid he's been pushing himself too hard and wearing himself out. That is not good at all for a body that has been struggling to repair internal damage. If he doesn't take it easy, his recovery time will be that much longer."_

"_We don't have time to sit around here," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Doctor, if word gets out…"_

"_No one here knows of his status but me," Doctor Fiorelli said, stoutly. "And I'll be damned if I were to give it up. Trust me when I say I want the both of you out of harm's way as soon as possible, so, Sir Sirius, I beg you to keep this child from over-exerting himself. It shan't do him any good in the long run, I tell you. He might not recover at all."_

_Sirius nodded, gravely. "I'll do whatever I can, Doctor. In the meantime, I need to ask you a favor."_

_Doctor Fiorelli flipped his clipboard closed. "What can I do for you?"_

"_I'd like a map of the Hospital Grounds, sir."_

"_Going to find an escape route just in case of trouble?"_

"_Yes," said Sirius, "and preferably before it finds us."

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**Chapter 13**

**- Forward -**

Lucius swung his sword down, and it connected solidly with Lorien's. The force of the blow was enough to make the Ravenclaw Elite drop his weapon so that it fell to the floor. Before the man could move to pick it up, the tip of Lucius' blade was to his neck.

Both men stared at each other for a moment before Lucius bent down to help Lorien up. "You've improved," the former said.

"No," James contradicted, for he had been standing nearby, closely watching the fight. "He was distracted." They turned to see him retrieve the fallen sword. "In your anger at yourself for your unequal abilities at sword play, you left many openings in your defense." He proceeded to hand Lorien his sword, pommel-first.

"So says the Defense Master," Lucius said, under his breath.

James glared at him, hearing the insult for what it was – he knew he would never be as good of a sword-wielder as the late Professor Merrythought. "I am no Master, sir. But as I have been designated to teach this course, I will do so at my own discretion."

"Yes, so I have noticed: does the curriculum include the instruction of swordplay to the women of the Academy now, too?"

"Women?" Lorien echoed, confused.

"Tell them, Sir James," Lucius said, in a sneering way. "Tell them that you've started to instruct the Lady Lily in the ways of the sword, privately."

The rest of the Elites, who were lined by the mirrored wall, came forward. "Is this true?" Severus demanded.

James sighed inwardly. When he made no move to defend himself from the accusation, Dane threw Severus a look and held a hand out to stop Lucius from making a snide comment. "Sir James, you know that women are not to be included in such a dangerous sport."

"Then why give her the sword?" James demanded. "If she won't learn to use it, then, take it from her."

"She shouldn't have it to begin with," Lucius, who was unable to hold his tongue for any longer, snarled.

James' temper got the best of him. "You know as well as I that the Lady Lily deserves her title as an Elite as much as you do! His Majesty awarded her the pendant, himself!"

"Is it special treatment, I wonder?" Malfoy continued to mock, ignoring the exasperated look he received from Dane. "I hear you have decided to take her as your Lady friend. Though why one would decide to pursue a half-breed, one can only wonder."

This time, James drew his sword, his blue eyes flashing. "I'll not have you speak ill of Lady Lily in such a way."

Lucius' response was to raise his sword, tauntingly. Dane made to stop them, but Lucius barked, "Step away, Sir Dane. This matter does not concern you." He kept his eyes locked on the Gryffindor student. "Very well, Sir James: let us settle this dispute with a duel." And without warning, he lunged forward, thrusting with such speed that he made James stagger. The latter was able to deflect the blow, though, his honed skills managing to turn the man's blade before it could land a successful hit on his shoulder. He responded to the attack with a lunge of his own, to which Lucius danced away from, nimbly.

James watched his opponent warily, knowing that Lucius always had tricks up his sleeve. He moved aside easily when his next attack came, and sure enough, his opponent followed up with an unexpected kick. James managed to block both effectively, stubbornly refusing to back down.

The fight ensued, with Lorien, Dane and Severus watching on the sidelines, helplessly. Truth be told, though, the duel was interesting to see as both men did not seem to be losing any ground, their swords connecting again and again with an eerie grace. Dane knew that even if he tried to stop them, he could not, for these two had always been rivals in the sport. His own skills with the sword paled considerably in comparison to theirs, so he could only hold his breath as time after time, the strikes were very close to hitting home.

It was then that things started getting ugly though, because all of a sudden, Lucius seemed to have the upper hand, managing to push James back, and in surprise, James could not raise his sword in time to block the blow. There was a moment of dread as Lucius' sword slid through, catching James in the right shoulder, and the latter let out a clipped cry of pain that resonated through the room.

Triumph danced in the Slytherin Elite's eyes, a smirk tugging his lips. "I think we can clearly see who the victor is, am I right, my lord?" As if to emphasize his point, he dug the sword deeper into the man's wound.

"Sir Lucius, stop!" Dane cried, but Lucius did not yield.

James grit his teeth against the pain and with his free hand, he grabbed the blade, muscles twitching as he pulled it free. With a gasp, he tightened his grip and twisted, effectively wrenching it from Lucius' grasp and spinning it expertly so that its pommel rested comfortably in his left hand. With ease of practice, he leaned back, forcing Lucius down with him, throwing the man off balance. Before anyone could move, both blades were crossed at Lucius' throat. "Yes," James panted, wryly, "I believe we can."

"Gentlemen! Stop this at once!" The command made everyone jump and turn. Standing by the doorway, stood the Headmaster, looking non-too pleased. Beside him stood Lily, who seemed stricken.

Slowly, James straightened from his crouch, withdrawing the swords, giving Lucius a meaningful look. The Slytherin Elite growled slightly, and rose to his feet, lifting his head proudly in an attempt to save face from his apparent disgrace.

Lily cried out, rushing to James' side when he groaned softly, bringing a hand up to his wounded shoulder, his fingers coming away covered in his blood. "What do you think you were doing?" she cried, rounding on Lucius. "You could have killed him!"

"No…" James murmured. "It was my fault…"

"What are you talking about?" Lily demanded of him. "We saw what happened!" She glared at Lucius who looked away from her in disdain. "Were you trying to kill him?"

"I should not have let myself get distracted," James said, sounding rueful. He glanced over his shoulder at Lorien. "It was a lesson well-learned, was it not?"

The Ravenclaw Elite returned the look, bleakly, and James addressed Lucius, saying, "My apologies. In our next match, I will give you my undivided attention."

At that, Lucius reddened, clearly affronted.

Lily angrily shook James' arm. "Are you saying you got hurt on _purpose_?" she yelled. "Why would you do that?"

He glanced down at her, a slight smile on his lips. "My Lady, I thought to demonstrate what would happen if one became distracted in battle. I am, after all, the instructor for this course." He winced again while he spoke and Lily said, "You should go see Madam Pomfrey! The wound looks deep!"

"It's nothing," James waved her away dismissively.

"Our apologies, Master," Dane said, heatedly, remembering his courtesies. "Such conduct is unbecoming to the Elite class." He glared at Lucius as he spoke. "We have a duty to the students of the Academy to set a good example. It's stated in the Oath."

"See that it doesn't happen again," Master Edmund told Lucius. "I shall have a formal notice as to your punishment on your door by this afternoon, be well aware."

At first, it seemed as though Lucius was going to say protest but then, he bowed slightly, in apology.

Master Edmund cleared his throat, and looked to the other men to see if they had anything more to add. When no one made a move, he cleared his throat again and said, "Sir James, I'm sorry to have interrupted your lesson. I wanted to speak with the Elites in private."

"Y-yes, of course, professor," James muttered, and he proceeded to sheathe his sword, bowing slightly to excuse himself. He caught Lily's eye as he started to stride away, trying to reassure her that he would be fine.

"Do stay if you can," Edmund said. "Your knowledge in the matter would be greatly appreciated." Again, he looked to the other men to see if there were any objections. There were none. Slowly, James went to stand next to his fellow Gryffindor, not trusting himself to stand anywhere near the Slytherins, knowing all too well that he would end up in another quarrel with Lucius. The wound seemed to pulsate beneath his hand, but he forced himself to disregard the pain, focusing instead on what the Headmaster had to say.

When he was sure he had everyone's attention, Edmund began to pace around them, scratching the stubble that was growing on his chin. This was the worst state that James had ever seen the man groomed in, and he wondered what the faculty thought of it. He could only guess that Edmund had not been eating or sleeping well and James began to have a feeling of apprehension.

Surely what ever the Headmaster had to say would not be good.

"I wanted to gather you during your studies as I did not want any other ears listening in," Edmund said. "As everyone is well aware, the King's Army has been standing guard throughout the Academy but they have lately started mobilizing into the classes during the day."

"The motive, they say, is to protect the students even while they study," reported Severus. "The orders came from His Majesty himself."

"That is questionable," James interjected, immediately. "Why would he not have ordered this sooner?"

"Maybe he just thought that the threat of another invasion is starting to look very possible?" Lily suggested.

James raised an eyebrow at that, and she shrugged, helplessly. When it came to strategic stuff, she was just entering the game – a game she had thought was over.

Even Master Edmund couldn't help his smile at her naivety. "Be that as it may, it does not bide well with me."

"I believe Sir James is right," Lorien offered. "It seems that His Majesty should have placed his army strategically throughout the castle instead of confining his men within classrooms."

There were nods all around at that, and Dane began to pace, as was his habit, when he was troubled and thinking deeply. The clack of his boots on the hardwood floors made Lily very uncomfortable, but she watched him, as did everyone else.

Overhead, the Bell's Chimes rang, indicating that the fourth period of the day had ended. Its echoes gave way to the sound of pattering feet as students moved to their fifth class. Their voices filtered into the room, laughter sounding very misplaced in the tense atmosphere.

"Tonight," Severus murmured, halting Dane's agitated pace. "We have no other choice, Sir Dane."

Lily looked between the both of them, for once catching onto their meaning without needing any explanation: he was talking about evacuating the students.

"Yes, we've little time to spare," James agreed. "If we hadn't dallied, we would have been able to get half of the Academy to safety by now."

"There is no turning back, now, I'm afraid," Dane sighed, deeply. "I had hoped it would not come down to this. Everyone will be greatly disappointed."

Lorien put a hand to his fellow Elite's shoulder. "Better that then caught up in a mess that could have been avoided. It is inevitable, my friend." And to that, Dane sighed again.

Even Master Edmund didn't seem very pleased with the verdict, but he resignedly said, "At the dinner hour, we shall make the announcement."

Lucius, who had been listening to the conversation silently all the while, finally spoke up. "No, that would not be wise, Master." When all eyes were on him, he firmly stated, "It would be easier to make the announcements within our respective Branches."

Lily didn't see the difference, and she was surprised when James agreed with him, giving a single nod to Lucius' objection.

Sometimes, she didn't understand these men.

Edmund considered his words carefully, before acquiescing. Right after dinner, all students were to report to their Houses immediately, where the plan would be laid out for everyone.

They were in the middle of discussing what they would say when the doors to the room opened and uniformed soldiers from the King's Army made their presence known; it looked like even the Elites' class was included in their patrol.

Master Edmund quickly excused himself, telling them that they would keep each other informed throughout the day and without further ado, he departed.

James stared after him for a long moment before turning to Dane. "I know you are busy, sir, but seeing as how Sir Lucius finds himself in a state of disgrace, do you mind taking over my next class as I pay a visit to the hospital ward?"

Dane couldn't help his smirk, bowing smartly. "I will handle them until your return."

"That shan't take long," James told him. He looked toward Lily who stood next to him. "My Lady," he invited, extending his arm to circle around her waist.

She let herself be swept away with him, looking back only once to see the rest of the Elites watching them. "James…"

"Everything will be just fine," he told her.

She wondered if he was talking about the rumors that would spread about them, or if he was talking about the wound he had incurred during his duel.

He was thinking of none of that, though. His mind was preoccupied about the evacuation that would happen later that night. Despite his calm demeanor, he was panicking inside: what with the festival so close, an evacuation was sure to strike fear into the hearts of the students.

He could clearly remember that long night two months ago where the students had scrambled for their lives. Well, this time around, they were going to be prepared. There weren't going to be any casualties.

…Right?

**0-0-0-0-0**

The whole palace was in an uproar!

With Iris suddenly missing, Toma was furious. He had ordered an immediate lock down of the Palace and everything was being searched – every cupboard was opened, every table cloth uplifted, every chair and bed overturned – anywhere a little child could hide.

The entrances and exits to the Palace were vigilantly being monitored. The Walls were lined with soldiers, to be certain that she wasn't able to climb over them like the first time she had gotten in.

Every child that was found was brought before Toma. Dozens of them were now huddled together in the Throne Room, knowing that if they made the wrong move, Toma would kill them.

They had seen it happen.

Twice.

Now, all was silent in the room, save for the _thump_ of Toma's gilded sword hitting the carpeted floor as he paced, agitatedly. He glared at the soldier who had just brought him news: Iris was no where to be found.

"She can't have just disappeared, Durke," Toma snarled, causing the soldier to flinch back.

"We've searched everywhere – even the storehouses! We've checked behind every curtain in the Palace, every linen in the wash house and every stall in the stables."

Toma brought his face closer to Durke's – close enough so that he could see beads of sweat pop out over the man's tanned skin. "Search. Again."

Durke brought a fist up to his heart. "Yes, General!"

Toma watched as his soldiers were rounded up yet again and mobilized to search once more.

It was taking Matheson every inch of power to hide the relief he was feeling. If Iris got away, that was good: at this rate, if she was caught, Toma wouldn't think twice about sparing her life. He tried to keep his face impassive as his captor ambled closer. "I will not be outsmarted by a child," Toma spat and Matheson couldn't help but think that he was acting like a child himself.

He raised his head slightly, looking Toma in his slanted eyes. "Are you afraid, Toma?"

Toma sneered, "I have nothing to be afraid of."

"Your plans will be revealed if she gets out of the Palace," Matheson noted, knowingly. "I'm sure you have much to be afraid of."

It took a while for Toma to answer that. He would rather die than admit that Matheson had hit the nail right on the head. "She is but a child. No one will believe her," he said, stoutly, after a pause. It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. Again, relief filled Matheson for the way Toma was beginning to lose his cool.

If he could just gain a bit of a foot hold…

"Anyway, she can't have escaped. There's no way she could get through the security I have placed around the castle's perimeter."

Matheson held his tongue, not wanting to cause Toma to get riled up any more than he was. Instead, he turned his gaze on the children who watched the exchange before them with big eyes. All of them, he could see, were terrified.

He had never felt so powerless before in his life. Here he was, King of England, and yet, he could not even save one child's life. If Iris was in the castle, he hoped she could get out. _Lord, spare her_…

And she _was_ still in the castle. In fact, Durke was so true to his word that Iris was hiding in the most dangerous place of all: the oven. She had made it so far as the kitchen in her endeavor to leave the palace. Because Blake had first hidden out in the kitchens, she decided to take that approach too. At the beginning, she was frightened that one of the staff would give her away, but when the Head Cook heard the order to search thoroughly for the runaway child, she had pushed Iris into the oven.

The oven was cramped and stifling. Iris was certain that had it been different circumstances, she would have been panicking for being locked inside such a space for almost an hour. Of course, there was a biting fear that someone would turn the oven on. But she had been told not to get out until someone opened the door to release her. If not, she'd have to stay hidden because it meant that the coast wasn't clear.

It seemed to take an eternity before Madam Smith opened the oven door. Her voice was tense. "Child, they're gone for now." She reached into the oven and helped Iris clamber out. "They've set up patrols everywhere – they're still searching for you!"

"What am I gon' do, Madam?" Iris asked. She looked around at all the other cooks inside the room. All eyes were on her, but no one dared to speak up or even move.

"Well, I'm right pressed to see you get away safely from the likes of that monster," Madam Smith said, dusting her hands off on the towel that hung by her waist. She was a robust woman, whose graying hair had been pulled back into a bun that rested neatly under a net. Despite her gruff voice, she had a kind face, and it smiled down at Iris while she spoke. "There aren't many places left to hide around here. It's a good thing soldiers don't know the difference between an oven that's working and one that's not." There were several chuckles that responded to her comment.

"Where should I go then?" Iris asked. "I need ter git back 'ome!"

Everyone seemed at a loss. Apparently, not even one suit of armor or vase was being left uninspected. Leaving the Palace seemed to look more and more like an impossibility.

At that moment, the scullery maid came in, loudly speaking with a kitchen boy. They didn't seem to pay the least attention to the silence in the room, and when they both reached for some cookies that were on a plate that was stocked on the counter, Madam Smith's wooden spoon came down upon their hands with a loud smack.

"Griselda! You know better than to eat without washing up. You too, Uski! Manners are manners."

A voice from the doorway made everyone jump and turn. "Well, I see you're strict as always, Emma."  
There, standing just in the mouth of the Entrance, stood a tall and elegant lady. She was the prettiest person Iris had ever laid eyes on. What caught her attention was not the crown of diamonds, but the hair on which it rested. Like spun gold, it curled around her shoulders and shimmered under the kitchen's light. Her face, though pale, was beautiful, especially when she smiled. She also wore the biggest and glamorous gown Iris had ever seen. It was complete with a ring.

Flustered, Madam Smith curtsied and the rest of the kitchen staff followed suite. Iris was rooted to the spot in both awe and fear, finding herself unable to tear her eyes away from the gorgeous woman. For some reason, she wondered what it would be like to be hugged by such a figure. It was as if the world stood still when the Lady turned her gaze upon her. Iris felt a blush rise to her cheeks.

"Your Majesty, your presence was not expected," Madam Smith stuttered, upon rising.

Still not removing her gaze from Iris, the Queen said, "I beg pardons that I did not send someone ahead to inform you. A simple walk to the kitchens for a snack never hurt a body."

"Drawing attention to oneself at this time isn't the most prudent thing to do," Madam Smith agreed. "You're lucky that Toma hasn't turned his wrath upon you."

"He would not dare to hurt my husband," The Queen's voice wavered a bit, which showed everyone just how much the hostage situation was making her nervous.

"You should lay low," Madam Smith advised. "It would not be wise to allow yourself to be the next target. Toma will use any method to force the King's hand."

The Queen nodded, and when she did, her ringlets bounced. She seemed to glide as she walked forward, stopping before Iris. It took the girl a moment to realize that she was shaking. "And you must be the runaway," she noted.

Voice stuck in her throat, Iris just jerked her head once. When the woman extended a hand to her, she flinched back, trembling. "Poor thing, she's terrified," the Queen murmured.

"Iris, this is Her Majesty, Felicity. Mind your manners now." The way Madam Smith scolded her lightly reminded her of Mistress Salison back at the Orphanage. Obediently, Iris wiped her shaking hand on her dirty clothing, embarrassed to touch the woman's perfect skin, before reaching out to shyly shake the Queen's hand.

The Queen's smile grew. "What is your name, child?"

"Iris, Madam," the girl whispered. And then, she told her honestly, "I'm scared…"

"Don't be afraid," Felicity said, gently. "I will not hurt you."

"Please, Madam. I wanter go 'ome…"

Felicity's smile faltered then, and Madam Smith proceeded to fill her in on the new orders Toma had given. The Queen straightened, absently smoothing out her skirt. "I must congratulate you on your wit," she told Emma. "But it won't do to keep her within the kitchens, or she will eventually be found. We must get her off the castle grounds as soon as possible."

"If there was a way, I could not agree with you more, my Lady," Emma said. "This child must have been important enough that Toma is taking all his energy to find her."

At the mention of the man, Iris made a small sound at the back of her throat, which sounded like a whine: she couldn't help herself: she could vividly see his evil smile and his slanted eyes staring coldly down on the body of one of her best mates. Suddenly, she felt very sick to the stomach and tears welled up in her eyes.

Seeing them slide down her cheeks, the Queen asked, "Is something wrong, Iris?"

" 'e killed Blake!" she told them. "Right in fronter me, 'e did! And all 'cause 'e wanted the King's son…"

The Queen's breath caught. "Peter?" she breathed. Her hands went out to grasp Iris' shoulders. "Tell me. Tell me everything you heard."

So, bewildered, Iris recounted what she had heard – all that she could remember, anyway. While she hadn't understood most of the conversation between Toma and the King, she had quite an accurate memory, as most children are like to have. When she finished, she stared at her feet, because the Queen's face had gone white during the telling of the tale. Had she gotten angry that she had finished it so abruptly?

Even her voice was faint as she whispered, "Oh, no…oh, no…!"

"My Lady," Madam Smith crooned, "if Toma cannot find His Highness, then there is hope yet."

"We must get word to the Academy," Felicity said. "All those children…! We cannot have a repeat of what happened in the months just past. If Toma plans to hold them hostage again, I fear not just for my son's sake, but for the sake of my kin." She looked down at Iris again, and the child shifted, uncomfortably. In fact, everyone in the room seemed tense, as they, like the Queen, thought of every possible way to alert the Academy of Toma's plot.

It was at that moment that a shrill whistle interrupted the heavy silence in the room. All heads snapped to the source of the sound.

A kettle.

Emma murmured, "Mercy!" before going over to the stove to switch the heat off. "There are mouths to feed and here we are, standing around with our skirts in a bunch," she gave an apologetic nod to the Felicity. "I beg pardons, Your Majesty – everyone, back to work! The Queen and I will have some words."

Then, as though a button had been pressed, everyone began moving, filling the kitchen with its usual hustle and bustle.

While they discussed, another cook helped Iris wash her arms, hands and face before setting her on a stool and giving her a piece of freshly-baked Moon Bread. Gratefully, the little girl devoured that, along with a bowl of steaming soup and a tall glass of milk. She ate nervously, watching the adults apprehensively: what if there was no way to get out after all?

She was just finishing up her meal when the Queen finally came over to her again. The look on her face was unreadable, and Iris' heart pounded because she didn't know what to make of it. "We'll get you out of here," the woman promised, "but we must act at nightfall. In the meantime, I will get you to my personal sitting room. From there, you may access the gardens. When darkness falls, it will be difficult for any soldiers to see you. Once you get to the gardens, you will see a Well. Stay to the right of it - " for emphasis on the direction, the Queen patted Iris' upper right arm, "- you will see a door hidden in the wall. This door leads to an open area where firewood and garden tools are usually kept. It is also surrounded by a stone wall and a glaze of trees. The trees should keep you covered when you climb the wall – I doubt it very much if there are guards patrolling that area. If that is the case, stay hidden in the cover of the trees. Do you understand?"

Iris nodded, and the Queen sighed, looked once more at the Head Cook, before rising.

"But Madam, 'ow am I gonner git with you to the sitting room?"

The Queen merely smiled and swished her skirts. "It's about time these unreasonable gowns did more than bump into everything I pass by. There is room enough to hide a little maiden such as yourself." She winked, assuredly. "None will be the wiser and no soldier would dare to inspect under a Lady's skirt. Especially mine."

At that, Iris grinned, and the Queen mirrored it.

Soon.

Soon she would be free.

**0-0-0-0-0**

James looked out the window, feeling as though someone was calling his name. It made his skin crawl, and he passed it off as his frayed nerves. With all the preparations that had to be made, he felt as though he had become an Elite again.

Shaking off the sense of foreboding, he crossed his room toward his desk, which was the main station for a stack of books that was piled in a precarious manner, crumpled pieces of paper that had been musical compositions that hadn't quite turned out the way he had wanted them to, and maps that he and Remus had roughly sketched and marked of the passageways they had scouted.

There were a few photos that peeked out from amongst the mess, mostly of him and his sister. The others contained him and his friends. He had no photos of his parents. After all, they had been absent for the majority of his life. The only picture he ever saw of them was the one that hung in his Estate in the Drawing Room.

As he passed by his dresser, his guitar, which usually leaned against it, fell over with a soft thud, and clucking under his breath, James bent down to retrieve it. He really had to go buy himself a new stand. The last one had broken because Peter had foolishly tried to use it as a sitting stool.

Remembering the incident made him smile, though at the time, he had been quite cross with the younger boy. However, it was hard to stay mad at Peter. His innocence and awkwardness in social situations was almost endearing. If anything, it could be said that James spoiled him more than anything.

He was just returning the guitar back to its original place when a knock came at his door. Turning his head, he called, "You may enter!"

It was Lily, who pushed the door open slowly, shyly. "Hi," she said. "I came to check on you."

James smiled and got to his feet. "If you think a small cut is enough to disable me, I beg you think otherwise, my lady," he told her.

"It wasn't a small cut if Madam Pomfrey had to stitch it up," said Lily, pointedly, closing the door behind her.

James rolled his right shoulder carefully, in response. It hurt to do so, the wound protesting the movement by sending a searing pain down his arm. While he had had worse, Lucius couldn't have picked a better time to give him the wound: just as they were preparing to evacuate. He sighed. "It will heal quickly."

"I heard Sir Lucius has to make a formal apology to the school and will be in confinement for the rest of the night," Lily informed him.

James said, "It won't matter too much. During the evacuation, no one will care for his misconduct or punishment."

"So…we're really leaving?" Lily sounded nervous, moving into his room to stand by his desk.

The elder boy plucked a string to his guitar, absently. "Yes, Lily. As the women and children are to go first, I hope you are packed."

Lily shook her head. "No, I can't go on ahead! I am -"

"-An Elite," James finished for her, wryly. "Yes, I knew you would have that excuse handy."

She reddened. "It's not an excuse!" She protested. "I've got to help make sure that all the students get out safely."

"And that is precisely why you will lead the women and children," James said, nodding. He rolled his shoulder again, uncomfortably.

She stared at him. "I don't know the route!"

"Which is why I am sending Remus with you to show you the way," he said, knowingly.

Lily hated how he had answers for everything. Seeing her apprehensive look, he thought to add, "He volunteered to handle the groups seeing as how his Lady is amongst them."

"And what about you?" she demanded. She couldn't help but feel as though James had completely forgotten the fact that he was talking to _his_ Lady. Of course, she couldn't bring herself to say it aloud without feeling too self-conscious.

"You don't understand," James said, understanding perfectly well what Lily was hinting at. "Remus has a duty to Lady Nymphadora."

Well, how vague.

Seeing her narrow her eyes, he realized he wasn't going to satisfy her with that answer alone. So, he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. _Lily isn't the type to gossip anyway_, he told himself. It wouldn't hurt to tell her. "At the moment, she's pregnant with his child. So, if you can understand, my lady, he doesn't want to part from her side."

Lily's jaw dropped, almost of its own accord.

Pregnant?

She didn't know what to think.

She didn't know what to say.

Clearly the news hadn't been broken to anyone, because it would have spread like wildfire with the way noblemen liked to talk. Now, she understood the predicament. "So you see, Lily, as such is the case, he requested that he be the one to lead your group, else I should have done it so that I could keep you in sight at all times," James told her.

"Then…"

"I will be the one to lead the men out of the Academy once the first group leaves," he confirmed. "I will be right behind you, don't you worry." He tried to smile for her sake, but the worry and fear was evident in his eyes. She knew he was every bit as terrified as she was. "I bid you to see after my sister, would you? I fear that while she may be quite comfortable within the walls of the Academy, she will become fearful again once she is exposed to the outside world again."

As always, he was thinking of the safety of his sister. Lily couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of her. She pursed her lips and nodded. The look of relief on his face made her feel a bit better. To distract herself, she looked down at the maps on his desk. "How exactly are we getting out of here without alerting the King's Army or the soldiers in Hogsmeade?"

This time, he grinned. "It was all thanks to you. After you mentioned going through the underground passageways, Remus and I figured it out. We spent nights mapping the route." His calloused fingers reached out to pick up one of the maps on his desk.

Lily tilted her head, a frown tugging at her lips. "I don't get it. Don't you already have a map of the underground tunnels?"

"This isn't a map of the underground tunnels of the Academy," James told her, waving the paper with a flourish. At her questioning look, he said, "It's a map of the underground tunnels of the village."

"The…village?"

"That's right," he confirmed. "We're escaping through the sewer system."

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

**AN:** FINALLY! I've never been prouder of myself for finishing a chapter. I had so much trouble with this one, but thanks to everyone's constant reviews and encouragement, I was able to muster confidence in writing this. I'd love to hear feedback, so please do be kind enough to leave a review before exiting this window.

The story is moving at last! I hope you enjoy the ride from here on in as well. Thanks for reading!

-P.P.V.V.


	14. Bad News

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies...all original characters/ideas are mine to claim. _

AN: Everyone's probably really exasperated about the amount of time I take to update. Well, I can't help but feel ticked off at myself and I really do apologize for the long wait. I have come to the conclusion that blaming life does not seem to work miracles in getting another chapter updated/written, so I won't bother, this time around. Here's to all my readers/reviewers/suscribers - an extra long chapter that, while dark, does hold a ray of happiness. Or it could just be that I'm really sadistic, after all.

Onward.

* * *

_Previously:_

"_How exactly are we getting out of here without alerting the King's Army or the soldiers in Hogsmeade?" Lily asked._

_James grinned. "It was all thanks to you. After you mentioned going through the underground passageways, Remus and I figured it out. We spent nights mapping the route." His calloused fingers reached out to pick up one of the maps on his desk._

_A frown tugged at her lips. "I don't get it. Don't you already have a map of the underground tunnels?"_

"_This isn't a map of the underground tunnels of the Academy," James told her, waving the paper with a flourish. At her questioning look, he said, "It's a map of the underground tunnels of the village."_

"_The…village?"_

"_That's right," he confirmed. "We're escaping through the sewer system."_

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**- Bad News -**

Lily shuffled out into the hallway, moving to the side as a few first year students rushed by, eagerly chatting. From where she stood, she could clearly make out the topic of their conversation as it floated back toward her.

The Festival.

Final preparations for the big event were in full swing and Lily felt a pang of regret for them.

There would be no Festival.

She tried in vain to calm her sudden nerves. How could she possibly break that kind of news to her House without causing some sort of a riot? Surely there would be disappointment all around, and she was not looking forward to it. She had never wished to have a fellow Gryffindor Elite as much as she did now.

She made a beeline to the Headmaster's office, where the Elites were summoned to have a briefing of the evacuation. There was so much to do in so little time. Already she had been instructed to put together supply lists for her Branch; these she carried with her and nearly dropped when Remus suddenly collided into her. She stumbled back, and crushed the lists to her chest, sucking in a gasp.

"My Lady! My apologies!" Remus cried, upon seeing who it was he had run headlong into. He was panting, which clearly showed that he was in a hurry. "Are you all right?"

Lily checked herself. "I'm fine," she said.

"I should have looked where I was heading," said Remus.

"It's okay," Lily told him, before he could get any more flustered than he already was. "I was preoccupied myself, so I wasn't paying attention." She gestured with the stack of now-lightly creased paper in her arms. "I'm on my way to a meeting that Master Edmund called."

Remus nodded, "I, as well. I feared I would be late, especially for something this important."

Lily decided against telling him that she did not want any part in the evacuation, because then it would show him just how frightened she was. It was her nightmares come to life again: it seemed she had not yet forgotten just how terrifying the night from the few months past had been. Instead, she nodded and said, "Let's get moving, then."

They said no more, each deep in their own thoughts, walking amiably in silence. They reached the Headmaster's office and announced themselves before entering.

Sir Lucius was already present. His fine blond hair was swept back into a ponytail, starkly visible against the dark color of his uniform. It took Lily a moment to realize that he wasn't wearing his cape. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was now under disgrace because of his actions earlier in starting up a duel with Sir James.

Even though she didn't like him, Lily said her greetings, and Lucius returned them, stiffly. If Sir Edmund picked up on their hostility, he didn't show it. Rather, he urged everyone to sit and even offered them some tea while they waited for the others.

The next one to show up was Sir Dane, who looked very tired, unlike his usual composed self. He checked his watch to make sure that he had made it on time before hailing the Headmaster. James arrived shortly after, all smiles despite the urgency of the matters at hand. He plopped himself into a chair next to Lily. Finally, Sirs Lorien and Severus entered, apologizing for keeping everyone waiting.

There was a brief trading of news and it seemed that everyone had done their parts dutifully. All the lists for supplies had been drawn and triple checked. Dane reported that the wagons were ready for load and departure.

"How will we get them out of the castle?" Severus was the one who asked the question. Lily was relieved; if she had, it would have given Sir Lucius something else to sneer at.

"Because of the Festival, no one will question carts going out," Remus said. "It's normal for props and whatnot to be used by students. We will use the carts under that disguise."

"And if they care to check?" Lucius demanded.

_Does he always have to be so negative?_ wondered Lily, feeling her dislike for the man grow.

"Then we are simply bringing relief down to the village which is hosting a large number of people," Remus answered, not at all ruffled by Lucius' tone of voice. "After all, the Academy's attendees will require food and drink. It will seem very suspicious if we were to empty the Academy's supplies completely."

"So, too, if all the students disappeared overnight," Dane said, crossing his arms over his chest. As usual, he was not sitting down, but had taken to pacing the room, something he was more comfortable doing. It only resulted in making the others tense, but he didn't seem to notice it.

Well, he had a point.

But that would mean…

Lily felt herself grow cold when James spoke up from beside her, confirming what she wished he wouldn't say. "Which is why we mustn't all leave at once." He avoided her stare, and continued, in a quiet manner, "A fair number of us must stay behind, to lessen the suspicion."

Dane's face became unreadable, and Lily wondered whether it was because he was happy that he had not had to make that call, or if he was upset that he was leaving people behind in what would most likely turn out to be a very dangerous situation. His pacing, she noticed, had stopped all together at James' statement.

There was a long silence as all the Elites looked at each other uncomfortably.

Finally, the Headmaster broke it, by saying, "I suppose you already have in mind who will stay?"

James shifted in his seat slightly, causing the chair beneath him to squeak in protest. He adjusted his glasses (proof that he had not spared the time to put on his contacts) on his nose, and shook his head. "It is a suggestion, gentlemen, not a command. It would be preferable if there were people to remain here so that our ruse can work properly. But I dare not pick who will go and who will stay against one's will. I am, however, adamant that the women and children leave. What say you in the matter?"

Severus shook his greasy hair out of his eyes. "I agree – the women and children must not remain here. Though, I am not well with the thought of leaving people behind."

Dane glanced sideways at his fellow Ravenclaw Elite. "Sir Lorien?"

Lorien did not miss a beat. "We must have volunteers. If there are none to be had, then we must proceed with our original plan and get everyone out as quickly and as discreetly as possible."

The Headmaster nodded, which drew everyone's attention to him again. "Who will lead these volunteers?"

This time, Lily wasn't surprised when James immediately told him, "I shall," and she wasn't very surprised when none of the Elites stood to stop him. She swallowed her own protests, knowing that she would not be able to sway him from his decision: he was, after all, the best swordsman they had within the walls of the Academy. Their defenses were going to be thinly spread throughout all the groups that would be evacuating.

Her head throbbed.

How could Master Edmund even concede to the idea?

She hated this meeting.

Furiously, she clenched her fists and stared hard at them in her lap. She didn't volunteer her opinion because it wouldn't matter anyway.

Their minds were made up.

She almost missed the Headmaster's dismissal and was the last to rise to her feet. She listened dully as he instructed them on what to say to their House members and the procedure of evacuation.

Once he was done, everyone began to leave the room, Lily first because it was the gentlemanly thing to do, opening the door for the only lady in the room. She was glad for it because she didn't think she could face James right now. Inside, she was berating herself for becoming too attached. This had been precisely the reason why she had not wanted to get together with him. He had responsibilities, and she had not wanted to get in his way. At the same time, she was sick with worry for him; after seeing how badly he had been hurt – almost to the point of death – in the last infiltration, she was not ready to see him encounter the same thing again.

Before James could catch up with her, she quickly turned and called out, "Sir Dane, can I have a word with you?"

The elder man nodded once, and Lily ignored James' questioning glance, moving past him to plant herself beside the Ravenclaw Elite. "What can I do for you, my Lady?" Dane asked.

"I have to complete my lists of all the students within each House," she told him, watching as the other men moved on ahead of them. Thankfully, after a moment's hesitation, James went with them. "I have all the others, except for yours." Because she'd be leading the group of women and children, she'd have to do a constant headcount and she wanted to be prepared so that no one would go missing.

"I will have it ready for you within the hour," Dane promised her. "We will inform you as to who will stay behind after Dinner so that your lists can be adjusted."

"Keep me posted," Lily told him, making sure her voice masked her anxiety.

Dane smiled, showing dimples when he did. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder before he walked away, with a swish of his blue cape. Lorien, up ahead, waited for him before falling into step beside him.

By that time, James was a good distance away, having a conversation with Remus.

She decided to make her way to the storehouse a while later, skirting the Towers all together, knowing that James would search for her. She didn't want him to see her fear for him because she knew it would only hinder him in what he had to do.

The storehouse was bright with the noise of things being moved around and the chatter of voices while servants filed in to help with the loading of the wagons. Along the perimeter of the large barn-like room, were soldiers who watched the commotion with looks that bordered on tedium. In the center of it all stood Severus, poring through the supply lists that had been given to him to review. None of the soldiers questioned his actions because he did the task of inventory check to the Academy's supplies every day. Today, it seemed no different.

A musty smell was in the air, stirred by the many people moving around. Over the clang of metal and rustle of boxes, Lily could hear the sounds of dogs barking. She could see three of them, freely running after each other throughout the room. They probably belonged to the helping hands because students certainly were allowed no pets. The only 'pet' she had ever seen in the castle had been a tarantula, owned by Peter.

Dogs she did not mind.

Spiders, she did.

Gingerly, Lily made her way inside and Severus glanced up only briefly, his thin lips wordlessly mouthing each item as he ticked them on his page. He spoke at last, when he had to turn the page. Lily could see that he had written things in the margins with his cramped writing. "I will be done soon, my Lady," he told her. "I added a few more things to the list that I deem are important to bring. But other than that, I thank you for your pains."

Lily gave him a warm smile. "Not a problem. Do you need help loading the wagons?"

"No," was his response, "I will only require aid to review the lists. Once the wagons have been loaded, another inventory check is needed to make sure we have everything we need. Should I need assistance, I will call on you." In other words, she needn't worry.

She clasped her hands behind her back and lowered her voice, just in case the surrounding solders were listening in. Over the noise in the room, she knew they wouldn't be able to hear her, but it was better to be safe. "I wish someone else could take my place, right now…"

He returned her smile, wearily. "So do I," he admitted, tapping his pencil on his page. His black, beady eyes scanned the large storehouse, in almost a wistful manner. "I think I shall let Sir Lucius be the one to handle telling my Branch about the cancelled Festival."

They exchanged humored glances before Severus turned back to his lists. Without looking up at her, he blurted, "He considers it an honor, you know, as he is duty-bound to the Throne."

Immediately, Lily knew who he was talking about. "Can't someone else lead?" she asked. "Staying back at the Castle is too risky!"

"Sir James knows that no one else will want to. The task would fall to him in the end, anyway." Severus began to write once more, letting his words sink in before speaking again. "There is no one else who is better suited as it seems he's already planned ahead."

"So…James knew that this would happen…" Lily murmured. "But…why didn't he say something?"

Severus turned the page. "He did, but because he only had a suspicion, we could not act." He snorted in disgust. "I hope you don't think that Sir James managed to become an Elite due to his literary knowledge." In Severus' mind, James held no candle in the realm of academics. He shook his head so that his black hair fell like a curtain over his face. "No, my Lady. Sir James has always been the smartest in tactics and strategy. Master Dumbledore thought it would be wise should the Elites hold him on the ring for that purpose.

"As you can see, though he is an Elite no longer, he still takes his responsibilities of his Oath to heart. It is something admirable, though I am hard-pressed that he doesn't hear that from me."

At that, Lily giggled.

Severus looked up from his page, a small smile on his face. "Have you ever thought, Lady Lily, that Sir James might not want this responsibility? I'm certain that had he the choice, he would never leave your side."

Lily grinned. "Oh, Sir Severus, I never knew you to be the romantic type."

The Slytherin Elite flinched slightly at the remark and Lily swore she could see two pink spots appear on his sallow cheeks. He cleared his throat and turned yet another page. "There is much work to do," he said, attempting to sound curt, but Lily knew that he was feeling embarrassed.

She clasped her hands behind her back. "Thank you, Sir Severus."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Whatever for?"

"For comforting me."

The pink spots on his cheeks darkened and he made a shooing motion with the hand that held his pen. "Get on with you," he said, gently. "And may God protect you in your lord's place."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Darkness came upon them earlier than usual that night, and Iris didn't know whether it was a good sign or a bad one. It seemed to remind her just how dangerous her mission was going to be, but at the same time, it was comforting to know that she would soon be free.

That is, if she could do things correctly…

From her perch under the love seat of the couch in the Queen's sitting room, she could hear the Lady Felicity opening the glass partition that served as the doorway to the patio just outside. Beyond it was her private gardens, where flowers were beginning to bloom - a sure sign of Spring.

Crickets had decided to start their song, despite the fact that the sun had not yet fully left the sky. Both Iris and the Queen listened to them, savoring the moment of peace; the calm before the storm.

It was broken too soon, however, when Felicity softly called her out of her hiding place. "Iris, darling, it is time."

Obediently, and with many a tremble, Iris pushed herself out and rose to her feet. She felt out of place in this marvelously polished room. If there was one thing the Queen adored, it was glass carvings and the various statues that she kept gleamed down at the child from the top of their display cases. There was not a speck of dust within the room, so Iris tried not to move, lest she mar any of her surroundings with dirt or soot from her body and clothes.

Felicity smiled, encouragingly. "Did you remember to bring the letter?"

"Y-yes Madam." Iris' voice croaked. It was secured around her middle, tightly wound with string so that it would not fall from the small leather satchel the Queen had tucked it into. As she could not read, Iris didn't know what was written, only that she was to deliver it to the Master of the Academy.

"Good," Felicity said, with a nod. She stalked off toward one of the many cases that stood on a table in the far corner of the room. She came back with a small sack of gold pieces. "Take this with you," she said. "You may need it to get the job done. Whatever is left over is yours to keep." She proceeded to hook the small pouch to the string alongside the satchel, covering both items with the hem of Iris' shirt.

The little girl couldn't help herself as she reached up to snatch Felicity's hand. It was smooth and warm – what Iris supposed a mother's hand would feel like. "Please, Lady Majesty, can't yer go with me?"

Felicity fought to keep a smile on her face and to keep tears from brimming in her eyes. She couldn't help but pity the young girl in front of her. Slowly, she crouched so that she was face to face with Iris. "My dear child…I'm afraid I cannot…" She drew Iris into a hug, and felt the child tense up. "I know you're afraid," she whispered. "I am, too. But if I leave the Palace with you, Toma would find out and he would start to kill everyone in his path, including all those other little children. They would die just like your friend Blake."

Iris shuddered at the remembrance of Blake's screams. She pushed away from the Queen's shoulder. The elder woman's face was grave. "If I could do this task myself, surely I would, I promise you. So I am counting on you, Iris. Do your best."

Iris swiped the back of her hand under her nose and sniffled. "O-okay…"

The Queen glanced over her shoulder at the open partition. "You mustn't delay: the sun is setting and the guards' rotation will begin. Do you remember my instructions?" At Iris' nod, the Queen bowed her head and murmured, "God bless you and keep you," in a prayer for the child's success and safety. Then, she got to her feet and led her over to the patio. "When everything is settled and all this fiasco is put behind us, I would very much like to see you again," she said. "You are invited at any time."

"Ye mean, come back 'ere?" Iris twisted around to stare up at her in surprise.

"Of course." Felicity gave her a dazzling smile.

Straightening her shoulders, Iris looked out over the dark garden. She could hear the guards talking, no doubt getting ready to change shifts for the night hours. She squeezed the Queen's hand, which she was still clutching, reluctant to let go. The Queen returned it, before gently tugging herself free and ushering the child out into the night. "Don't forget: keep to the right of the Well."

"Yes, Madam."

"Try to keep out of sight."

"Yes, Madam."

"Farewell."

And with that, the Queen slowly slid the glass partition closed behind her, leaving Iris to face the unknown by herself.

She began to move, as only a child could, keeping crouched low behind shrubs and the cover that they provided as she inched her way across the gardens. She was nimble so that she was able to squeeze herself into tight spots where no adult could possibly have thought to look. Her footfalls were not heard against the soft ground beneath her, and she avoided the burs of certain plants and branches of bushes that had not yet sprouted leaves. Her wild, red hair had been pulled back into a small ponytail so that it would not get in her way, courtesy of one of the servants in the Palace.

The guards' voices filtered out to greet her, a reminder that she could get caught at any second. In her haste, she bumped violently into the Well and almost toppled into it. Muffling her cry at the last moment, Iris tried to regain her balance, whipping her head around to see if anyone had heard her. Relief flooded her when all she heard was the low murmur of conversation.

Heart beating wildly, she groped the wall blindly, searching for the hidden doorway that the Queen had spoken of. It would be made of wood, according to Her Majesty, with an iron handle that would be unlocked. She crept along, keeping her hand firmly planted against the side of the wall, searching for said door. All she felt were crags and the rough edges to the rocks, slicing her hand open several times on particularly sharp ones. The pain made her eyes water, but she determinedly kept searching.

As if to spite her, she found the door by way of driving a rather large splinter into an already open wound. This time, she did cry out, pulling her hand back in reflex to the sudden pain. A second later, shouts rang out around the gardens.

She had messed up!

Feeling as though her heart had jumped up to her throat, Iris spun, ignoring the throbbing pain in her hand and searched frantically for the doorknob. She found it, but because of the blood on her hands, mixed in with sweat, they slipped and slid over the smooth handle.

Footsteps and voices began to surround her, and she choked back a sob. There would be no way to outrun them.

Just as she was about to give up, the door gave way, sending her sprawling onto a stone court. She was vaguely aware of the fresh pain on her chin, but she ignored that as she scrambled to her knees, only to remember that those too, were wounded. Every bone in her body seemed to scream at her, but she didn't have time to curl into a ball and cry.

The soldiers would find her.

As quickly and quietly as possible, she closed the door behind her. After which, she glanced around. Sure enough, just as Felicity had told her, the place served as a tool shed of sorts. Here was where the gardeners kept their rakes and hedge cutters. Here too, was where shovels, hoes and pickaxes were kept, some of them still sporting some stain of earth on their metal heads. If she wasn't careful, she could send a lot of them falling over and that would instantly give away her position.

At this rate, how was she going to get to the wall if everything was in her way?

Iris did not have long to debate, though, because the voices began to sound closer to the door.

She proceeded to pick her way through whatever space she could. Several times, she stumbled and fell, but due to her size, she was able to slither past all the equipment in a fairly easy manner. She tried to console herself with the thought that if the soldiers ran after her, they'd have to contend with all the obstacles first.

The wall, however, was much higher than the one she had climbed the first time around, and at the time, she had had Victoria and Blake help her.

Blake…

The memory of his death sent a shudder through the young child, and she determinedly set her hands to the rough stone.

She would get out if it was the last thing she did.

She had to deliver the Queen's message.

And so, she began her grueling climb.

Slowly, she inched her way up the cold stone, her breath hitching whenever she felt like she was going to fall. Both hands were slick with blood now, and it made it difficult for her to have a solid grip on the wood.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally made it to the top.

_Stay in the cover of the trees_, she remembered Felicity saying. Wearily, Iris made herself move across the narrow strip of the ledge, toward the thicket of trees that had overgrown on one side of the wall. She was almost there when she heard the door to the shed open with a loud bang. The sound was enough to startle Iris, so that she screamed.

"Over there!" She heard someone shout. The responses to his exclamation were in Russian, so that the little girl could not understand it. One thing she did manage to make out was the fact that she had been found, and that she had run out of time.

Peering into the small room, she could make out nine figures, each dressed down in red uniforms. Each held a gun.

Instead of picking their way past the equipment as she had, the soldiers went through it brazenly, not caring that they were making a mess of things. The clatter of falling objects was so loud in her ears that for a moment, Iris quite forgot what it was she had to do.

When she realized that she had been correct in assuming that the soldiers would be slowed down, she hurried toward the thicket of trees, focused solely on getting to their blessed protection.

Right before she could make it to her destination, a sound – louder than anything Iris had ever heard – echoed through the air. It made her hair stand on end, her head spin, and left her ears ringing. Iris very nearly jumped out of her skin, and she missed a step, twisting her left ankle.

The sound came again, and this time, the rock beneath her feet exploded. In her surprise and fear, she jumped back, only to realize too late that the ledge did not extend that far.

Her screams followed her as she fell.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The bag was simple, but sturdy, no designs or ridiculous ornaments adorned it. Made of supple leather, it was strong and well-used. It had seen its days of school trips and family outings. Now, it was going to see its first (and hopefully last) evacuation.

_Travel light._

That was what the Headmaster had said.

In went shirts and pants, as well as undergarments and socks. Toiletries went in afterwards, next to the essential pocket knife and First Aid kit. As she did not own a sleeping bag, Lily rolled her blanket up tight: it would have to do as a makeshift bed. Pillows were a luxury, as were valuables, so they would be left behind. According to Master Edmund, each would have to hold their own weight, so it was not wise to bring more than what one could carry.

She had to pack quickly because the Curfew Bell would ring soon and she needed to address her House. Added to that, she still had to double check the supply wagons for the women and children. She had to make sure there was enough food and water for their group to last at least two weeks.

Lily knew that the going would be slow because of the route and the fact that a medicinal cart would also be travelling with them. A group of men were to go with them as well, hand-picked by James because they were well-learned in the art of combat. They would be the protectors should their group run into any trouble. Unfortunately, Sir Lucius was included in that number. Knowing full well of his dislike for her, Sir Dane had volunteered to accompany them, and Lily was glad for it. She knew for a fact that she would never get along with the Slytherin Elite, either.

She glanced up when someone knocked on the door. The clock told her that she still had fifteen minutes to spare before the Bells rang.

Who could it be? Rosetta, the Arts and Athletics Branch maid, was not due to her rooms for a while yet. Curiously, she bid whoever it was to enter.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," James said, upon opening the door.

Well, Lily definitely hadn't been expecting his presence.

They stared at each other before he whispered, "I'm sorry, my Lady…"

"There isn't any other way, is there?" Lily heard herself ask, turning her stare to the now coverlet-bare bed.

His silence was all the answer she needed.

She didn't know what to say. _Damn it,_ she thought, angrily. Why did he always have to play the hero? If she tried to stop him, she would end up looking like a villain.

She took a few moments to compose herself. James was a grown man who could take care of himself. She had to believe in him.

But still…was it too much to want to stay by his side?

She turned when he suddenly closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, in a desperate embrace.

"I'm so afraid, Lily…" he told her. She could feel him trembling, and she couldn't help but remember what Severus had told her about him wishing that the responsibility wouldn't fall on him.

How could anyone stay angry with that knowledge?

If anything, she felt sorry for him. Of course he was afraid – aside from Aesalon, he had suffered the most during the ordeal of the hostage attack. She remembered the frightful screams that had ripped themselves free of his throat a few nights ago when he relived those memories in his dreams.

She remembered his wounds.

She remembered the blood that had seemed like it would never stop flowing from his body.

Lily reached up to return his embrace. "So am I…"

His breath was cool against her forehead when he spoke next. "I know you're upset. Yet…" he stopped when she put a finger gently to his lips.

"I know," she whispered. "There isn't any other way. I know."

He paused, and looked her in the eyes, imploringly. His right hand came up to stroke her face, as if memorizing it by its feel. For a long time, his fingers brushed her eyebrows, her cheekbones, and her lips. They came to rest on her chin, tilting it slightly. "Allow me..." his voice was barely audible, "…to be selfish…just this once…"

Lily's hand slid to his chest as he bent to kiss her.

He smelled wonderful, of cologne and shampoo. The scent made her head spin in euphoria; the way he pulled her closer sent her knees to wobbling.

She thought right then and there that she would not mind more of his selfishness and she eagerly returned his kiss.

It was bittersweet; the feeling of despair, while not said aloud, lying just beneath the surface.

With that thought, Lily fisted the material to James' shirt as the kiss deepened. She had never done anything like this before, and she liked it immensely. Her heart felt near to bursting, and she was acutely aware of his body pressed against hers.

All too soon, it came to an end, and they moved to sit down on the bed together, hands entwined. After a while, Lily got up to pack again, reluctantly. James handed her the articles she had prepared.

A silence settled over them both, each lost in their thoughts, neither wanting to say a word because in so doing, it would somehow signal that their time together would come to an end. Thus, they stayed quiet, with futile hopes that they could be left in peace together and that the whole evacuation would not have to proceed.

Lily put each item away in a stoic manner, without really seeing what she was holding. She wanted to lean against James again, to feel his warmth, much as she had months past in a world she had considered to be magical; in the greenhouse where they had hidden together from a storm. She couldn't help remembering.

Eventually, James said, "My Lady…if anything should happen to me…" but Lily stiffened and said, "Don't say that. Nothing is going to happen to you."

He wagged a shirt at her, which she snatched and stuffed angrily into the bag. "Lily. As much as I love optimism, we must always be prepared for the worst." His eyes held a faraway, haunted look, when he made to stand next to her. "I've learned that the hard way, too many times."

His sister's violent raping.

The infiltration of the school.

And now, this.

Lily was about to protest, but clammed up when James absently dropped a kiss onto her hair. Without removing his mouth, he murmured, "Please…do not turn back." His breath in her hair, tickled.

Somehow, this conversation sounded awfully familiar. Seeming to read her mind, James chuckled softly. "You promised me last time that you wouldn't, yet you came barging in anyway."

The redhead flushed at that, and looked away, unhappily. "Why does it seem like you're trying to say goodbye?"

"Because it is a goodbye. For now." He added, hastily. "But I will return to your side, just like I promised. Now, be good and give me your word that you won't turn back. Your responsibility is with the students of the Academy."

Lily shrugged, in what she hoped looked like nonchalance instead of defeat. "Fine. I promise I won't turn back."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of laughter floating up from the Common Rooms down below. It reminded them that there were announcements to make that would surely end any mirth that still resided within the Gryffindor Towers.

James glanced at the door, his face becoming unreadable. It gave off the opinion that he was sure of himself, ready to take on whatever came his way. "Come, my Lady. We must go." He extended a hand out to her, which she took, reluctantly. She allowed him to tug her to the exit, just as the Curfew Bells rang.

It was time to face the music.

Her heart began to pump furiously in dread.

Her companion murmured, "Everything will be all right. I will not let you walk through the flames alone."

And so they exited the room hand in hand, the bringers of bad news.

**To Be Continued…**

**AN:** I know, it was dark, but hey, there was some L/J moments. Couldn't pass those up. In any case, I hope you enjoyed the read. Can I promise another update? Definitely. Can I promise an update that will come out very soon (sooner)? No. My schedule is haywire, so I am trying really hard to find time to sit down and write. Again, I apologize if I seem to drop off the face of the planet, but I swear I am alive and kicking. I don't mean to have such a long wait between chapters and I beg you to be patient.

I want to thank all the readers and reviewers once more! I can't tell you guys how much I appreciate them and love them. Keep them coming to keep me rolling. See you next update!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	15. Stirring Reason

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…

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_

**AN:** After a month's waiting (and then some), here is another chapter! I appreciate the feedback and comments. And yes, because of them, this chapter is longer and more action-packed. See, reviews work! I'm so happy because I have reached five hundred. You guys are so awesome.

Onward!

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_Previously:_

"_My Lady…if anything should happen to me…" James began, but Lily stiffened and said, "Don't say that. Nothing is going to happen to you."_

_She clammed up when James absently dropped a kiss onto her hair. Without removing his mouth, he murmured, "Please…do not turn back."_

_He proceeded to tug her to the exit, just as the Curfew Bells rang._

_It was time to face the music.

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_

**Chapter 15**

**- Stirring Reason -**

**Warnings: Be prepared for some gruesome descriptions. **

The Tower door slammed, making the portraits on the wall shudder. The crowd of waiting students turned their heads to see who had entered, the hushed whispers never ceasing.

Why had Lady Lily suddenly called an urgent meeting?

Ideas began to be passed back and forth - and rather openly at that - because the female Elite stood a few paces away, next to the Grandfather's clock from which the last echoes of its toll for the Curfew hour could still be heard. Beside her, stood Sir James as handsome as ever. No eyes missed the way their hands were intertwined. Nobody bothered to keep their curiosity over the new couple quiet. Despite the fact that Lily could hear all the speculations, she seemed to pay no attention to them.

There was no mistaking that the news she was to deliver was serious because her expression was grave. Over the course of the months since her Pendant Awarding, she had developed a pinched look between those green eyes of hers, which was proof of the pressure she must encounter daily as one of the Leaders of the Academy. It could also be noted that she had lost a lot of weight with the way the overcoat of her uniform seemed to sag a bit around her.

Being a Philologus Elite had never seemed harder.

Remus gave Lily an apologetic nod of the head and said, "I'm sorry I was late. Was there anything of importance said?"

"Not yet," Lily told him, waving him to the side. She watched as he hurried to find himself a seat next to the couch, which was already occupied with several ladies huddled together. Once he had folded his legs under him, she took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your nightly routines," Lily began, "and before anyone asks any questions, please listen and let me finish speaking." She glanced around to survey the room before her. It seemed she had everyone's full attention because they were all staring at her with curious expressions. A few had even leaned forward a little, and whether it was in anticipation of what she was going to announce, or if they could not hear her properly, she didn't know. Just in case it was the latter, she cleared her throat and raised her voice.

"There couldn't be a worse time to spring this on you, especially since the Festival is tomorrow. We tried to put this off until the very last minute, hoping that it wouldn't have to come down to this, but…" she clenched her fists in frustration. She had rehearsed what she was going to say over and over again in her mind, but somehow, she was unable to put them into words.

James put his hand on her shoulder. "What she is trying to say, ladies and gentlemen, is that there has been an immediate lockdown of the Castle. The students are to evacuate the premises tonight."

There was a split second of shocked silence before the whole room erupted into shouts of dismay and confusion.

James shot a sidelong glance at Lily and he raised his hands up high in a bid for silence. It took a while for everyone to settle down, and a few whispers still cluttered the room when he chose to speak again. "Please, let us explain. There have been reports of a large number of soldiers that have decided to settle down in Hogsmeade Village over the last few weeks. According to the information we've gathered, these soldiers' numbers have been growing daily and continue to do so.

"Whatever it is that they are planning to do, or what their orders are, we don't know yet. Sources tell us that they are waiting on a command before they move out." He exchanged another brief look with Lily, who took a step closer to him so that they were now standing shoulder to shoulder as they faced the crowd.

A moment of hesitancy was all the room needed to break into murmurs again. The tension in the air was almost tangible as conclusions were being drawn. Lily slowly met each eye and even though she whispered, her voice carried out throughout the Common Room. "Russian soldiers pose a threat on H.W Academy once again."

"Are we certain," came a voice from the back – Sir Francis Longbottom, "that these soldiers are Russian?"

"I have confirmed that myself, good sir," James told him. "There is no doubt as to their nationality." His own voice got quiet, haunted. "No doubt at all." He would never forget those uniforms, those accents…

Lily gently took hold of his hand again and gave it a squeeze. He seemed to shake himself mentally and he firmly said, "As we don't know their true motives, I have reason to urge you all to understand the circumstances. Rather than get caught up in a similar tragedy as the few months past, it would be best to avoid it all together if it is possible."

The room was now completely silent, the tension from earlier having mounted so much that Lily was sure that had it had a physical form, it would be smothering everyone. Whatever festive spirit the students had had just moments ago had vanished completely, leaving pale-faced, wide-eyed, disbelief in its wake.

Then, a fist punched the air. It belonged to Sir Rubeus Hagrid. "That ain't enough information! We can't jus' up an' leave! Whater 'bout the Festival?"

Remus craned his neck impatiently to shoot the big man an exasperated look. "That's just it, sir: we won't be going to the Festival. If there's a better chance at getting the students while they are vulnerable, it would be there. If we go to Hogsmeade Village, it would be like walking into a trap."

Another hand was raised, and this time, it belonged to Lady Kalyn Anderson. "I thought you said that their motives were not clear. Perhaps they have come to join the Festival and nothing more." She sounded hopeful.

James let out a soft sigh. "I thought that too, at first. But explain, my Lady, why they are all armed to the teeth? And explain why they have blocked all routes to and from the Village? Why are they constantly importing arms? If it is to have a good time in the Festival, I beg you to prove it to me." He glanced around the room, as if to dare anyone else to challenge his response.

Lady Florence DeBurceau piped up, "They would dare not touch us. Not with the King's Army present to defend us."

Lily could see the muscle in James' jaw twitching, which indicated that he was getting angry. She wondered if he was angry at Florence or at the King's Army. "We've done a headcount of soldiers within the Village and the King's Army is outnumbered ten to one." He shook his head. "No, my Lady. The King's Army will not stand a chance."

"But surely the King's Army will protect us to the best of their ability," Florence protested, clearly not willing to give up hope.

"The King's Army is not to be trusted!" James snapped. "Our evacuation is to be a covert one. The Army is not to know of our plans."

The students started talking, all at once. Some of them started shouting as they began to argue against his statement, while others began to whisper amongst themselves. The whole situation had everyone frightened.

"Sir Rubeus is right, we can't cancel the Festival based off of assumptions only!"

"What if Sir James is right? What if the soldiers in the Village plan to do something against the Academy again?"

A scoff, "That's rubbish! Why is the King's Army not to be trusted?"

A whimper, "I thought we were safe now…"

Lily was more than happy that James had been the one to explain the news because she was certain that she couldn't answer any of their questions. She was good at teaching lessons and tutorials, but in matters of strategy, Sir Severus was right: James was the only one who knew the game best.

The discussion went on for a while, and the volume grew in intensity little by little until it became so raucous that Professor McGonogall was obliged to step away from her chambers to find out what the source of argument was.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I never…!" She exclaimed, spluttering as she swept into the room. Long emerald robes trailed her, long sleeved and high collared. A dark brooch was clasped at her neck, and her fingers stroked at it angrily when she spoke. "What is the meaning of this commotion?"

Immediately, the arguing died down and everyone looked toward James.

He didn't miss a beat. "We leave tonight," he said simply. "We will pack our things and evacuate by Professor Edmund's orders."

McGonogall turned so pale that Lily was afraid she'd faint. Sir William must have gotten the same impression because he got up to offer a hand on her elbow to steady her. When she failed to respond, James continued, "While there may not be a threat against us, we are going to take the necessary precautions to get everyone to safety. Until the agenda of these soldiers is made clear, we will not risk your lives."

Sir Avery Brown stood up from his seat. "We should not be paranoid over something like this. It is what they expect from us. They wish to strike fear into our hearts and if we run, they will be victorious."

Lily winced as James' hand around hers suddenly turned vice-like. His own face had lost color, and she knew that his patience had run out. "What do you know about fear, Sir Avery?" he asked, coldly. "As far as I remember it told, you were amongst the few that managed to find a place to hide - you did not join the fight. Evidently, running, in your case, is not a problem."

Avery's eyes widened in his embarrassment. He straightened to his full height, which was a good head taller than James, his hand falling automatically to his sword as a response to the insult. James' arm twitched, but Lily pulled him back, hissing, "No, James! Don't…!" but the thumb of his left hand had already lifted the hilt of his sword from its scabbard a few inches, the click of metal audible in the room.

James inhaled several times through his nostrils and glared across the room at the other man. "It's as Professor Merrythought taught me, 'Cowards run, but the wary run and survive'. If I were you, sir, I would not enter a fight that I know I cannot dream to win." With that, he slammed the hilt of his blade back down into its sheath.

Now, Avery went pink around the ears, clearly disgraced.

The pressure around Lily's hand eased when James let go, stepping away from her and moving deliberately toward Avery. His movements were slow but certain, reminding her of how a predator was. He seemed to never wasting a single movement, all to preserve his energy for a real chase. Even his steps were measured, his long legs taking him down across the room fluidly enough, so that he stood before Avery in mere moments. He circled the taller man as he spoke, every eye on him, in what seemed like a trance. "You can't begin to imagine what it feels like to be frightened.

"You're alone…you are tied up against a wall with your arms back so that your hands could touch the back of your neck and your elbows your tailbone. Your feet are just inches from the floor, and you can't find relief from the weight that is on your shoulders."

His voice dropped, becoming dreamlike. "Have you ever felt steel slide into flesh? The cruel sharpness? The agony of a deep wound? The pump of blood through your veins as you anticipate the next strike? You learn to fear the blade, to fear its bite.

"How about the lick of a whip? You jump every time it cracks and you can't help but cry out when it lashes at you. Yet, you can't get away because you are pinned. You are helpless. You can only watch as the wielder brings his arm up to attack you again. And again! And again!" Each time he said the word, everyone flinched. But James didn't seem to notice. He continued his illustration, mercilessly.

"All that illuminates the room around you are torches. The heat is unbearable. Now, suppose, the flame is brought to your bare skin; pressed against you but no amount of squirming will quench the pain. No amount of screaming. No amount of begging. And you wish you could die – you beg for death – because at least it would end. You cry for mercy. You cry for help.

"But there is no one who will help you."

His pacing stopped.

The whole room held their breath as James grabbed the collar of Avery's shirt and brought him down to eye level. "That," he hissed, "is fear."

Avery gulped and Lily realized that she too, was holding her breath. She let it out and looked around the room to see solemn faces staring at James in both awe and horror. A few women in the crowd were crying.

Slowly, James released him, and pulled his sword out slowly. The sound of it sliding from its hold made the hair on the back of Lily's neck stand on end and a shiver run down her spine. "These soldiers are ruthless. They are mean and dirty. They will kill, plunder and destroy. If you wish that we remain here at the Academy, Sir Avery, then take my sword," he proceeded to hold it out to him, handle-first, "and kill all the people in this room right now. Spare us the slow torture."

Avery's lips trembled as he stared at James. A single tear slid down the man's rough face. "Lord help us," he whispered, at last.

For the second time that night, James sheathed his sword with a clang. "Prepare yourselves. We leave in one hour."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Oh, God…  
_Oh God!!!_

Nothing existed in the world but the colors red and white – they were the only things that could describe what could be seen through the excruciating pain. Screaming was impossible because each breath felt like drowning in acid.

Iris clung desperately onto consciousness, hating each moment because to do so meant wallowing in the hurt. She just wanted the hurt to go away. It invaded her body incessantly though and she couldn't ignore it. She almost passed out because of the pain but her willful spirit pushed through.

Taking shallow breaths, she tried to focus, to concentrate on something other than the pain. Her vision tunneled momentarily, and then it cleared enough to show her that she was staring up at a glade of trees. The wall she had managed to scale (and fall from) seemed to stretch to heaven.

She heard herself whimpering; she knew that if she could, she would have screamed until she was hoarse. She realized she was crying, and when she tried to wipe her eyes, she was horrified to find that her right arm had twisted itself into an impossible angle. A sickening sight greeted her in the form of bones and tendons where her hand and wrist should have connected.

A wail of pure terror wracked her small body. It continued for a while – she couldn't help herself.

Oh, God…

_Oh, God!!!_

Why did she have to go and get herself into such a mess?

Her heart thumped dully in her chest. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe.

_Am I gonna die?_

She'd never get to deliver the Queen's message if she did.

There was a distinct smell in the air, of something wet and rusty. Iris didn't have to raise her head to see blood. She could feel it all over her body, in her hair, on her clothes…

But that wasn't her main concern. Her main concern was being found lying there, helpless. She needed to move or else those guards would come after her. If they did, she wouldn't stay alive for much longer.

Biting her tongue to stop her wails, she found the strength to push herself up with her left arm. The movement almost made her pass out, but she determinedly grasped the wet grass and forced herself to try to remember how to use her legs.

Just like her right arm, her right leg had taken the impact of the fall, and it now lay propped up at a disgusting angle, her knee cap knocked to the side while the bone from her leg stuck out of her flesh. Another wail bubbled within her, but she tore her gaze away and began to vomit instead.

_Concentrate,_ she told herself.

…she desperately didn't want to die.

A part of her, however, just wanted to lie down and rest.

She was so tired.

Little did she know that it was because of her loss of blood. She was also unaware of the severe internal bleeding that was happening inside of her, but that was to be expected. The only thing that kept her moving was fear.

The colors in her vision started to include gray, green and black. Two times, Iris was aware that she vomited. From the coppery taste in her mouth, she was certain that it wasn't food that she had spit out. She felt the grass beneath her fingers, the scrape of dirt against her body – against her wounds. The sound of her breathing was loud in her ears despite the fact that she was barely able to take a breath.

Each inch crawled seemed to take an eternity until time didn't seem to have a rigid schedule any more. Everything, in fact, became a blur. Smell, sound, touch, time – Iris lost track of it all.

She was unaware that she had collapsed in the middle of the road.

If she had been fully conscious and alert, she would have been very surprised. How anyone was able to make it that far in her condition was almost a miracle.

But unfortunately for her, the miracle had come to an end.

_Concentrate._

…there…

…was that…

….a sound…?

_Concentrate!_

The sound of barking.

Oh no!

_Concentrate!!!_

Hooves.

Footsteps.

A voice.

"Oh my God! Are you all right? Hey! You! Kid!"

It was a male voice. It swore aloud.

Another voice entered the frame. "Ma! Pa just said a bad word!"

A little boy.

And a third voice. "Honey, I told you not to use that kind of language in front of Pell!"

Jeering laughter from the boy named Pell. "Hey, Pa, what is it?"

"Don't come any closer," his Pa warned. "Get back into the cart."

And of course, as children tend to do, Pell moved forward despite the fact that he had been told otherwise. So his Pa (or father, who actually went by the name Curtis), pushed him back two steps, ordering him to get his Ma (who went by the name Lorna).

Pell, having seen a bit of the gruesome sight, stumbled back to the cart. Seeing his white face, Lorna demanded, "What happened? What's going on?"

"Ma, come quick! Someone's hurt!"

So, Lorna clambered out of the cart, with much effort because she was a rather large and clumsy woman. Her skirts managed to snag onto the cart's steps, and only after she had freed herself from them was she able to go over to her husband's side.

She let out a gasp of both disgust and fear. "Good Lord! Curtis, did you trample someone?!"

Curtis swore again and wrung his hands. "No! I swear I didn't!"

This time, his wife didn't bother to scold him for his use of language. Instead, she bent over to inspect the figure in the dirt. "Why…it's a child!" she exclaimed. "She's hurt very badly!"

"What should we do?" Curtis asked, in a whisper full of dread.

"Well, we can't just leave her here!" Lorna cried. "We have to take her to the hospital. She looks like she's in terrible condition."

Curtis scratched at his flaxy blonde hair that seemed to shine despite the darkness. Where his wife gathered pounds, he was completely opposite, sporting a long, wiry body. Not much could be said about his features other than the fact that they were plain. "Looks to me like she's dead."

Just as he said those words, Iris lifted her head, though only barely. It caused the couple to gasp and jump back, and their dogs to bark even louder.

Lorna pointed and said, "Look! Will you shut those everlasting dogs up? It seems she's trying to say something."

But Curtis ignored her. He was more intent on the shouts that were starting to ring from the opposite side of the road, where the Palace was located. "Lorna, I think someone's coming."

"Be quiet!" His wife snapped, for she had knelt next to Iris, whose lips were still moving in an attempt to tell her something. "What is it?" she asked the child.

Through trembling lips, Iris managed to push out a single sentence. "Please…I don' wanter die…"

Feeling like someone slapped her, Lorna sat back on her heels. After a quick moment's hesitation, she turned to her husband, who was still watching the distance, worriedly. "Quickly, Curtis! Help me get her into the cart. Curtis, are you listening?"

"Lorna," he said again, "someone's coming."

She glanced up to hear the men shouting, too. "Oh, good. Maybe they can help us?"

But a feeling of great foreboding ran through Curtis at the thought. "No," he said. "No, they won't help us. We've got to get out of here. We can't be involved…" Somehow, he knew that those men were on the lookout for this little girl. If they thought that he had trampled her to death with his cart, then he'd have a headache to deal with. He might even lose his farm. Worse yet, if they were after the little girl and found out that he had helped her in any way, he couldn't imagine what kind of trouble would await him.

His wife stared at him, aghast. "Curtis…you don't mean to leave her here, do you?"

"I very well do!" he said.

"I refuse to leave someone on the streets dying like this," Lorna said, still disbelieving.

"It's none of our business, Lorna, that's what it is," Curtis told her.

"Well, if you won't help her, then I will!" Lorna began to gather Iris up in her arms to the utter astonishment of her husband. "Move aside," she commanded him, when he got up to protest.

"Lorna, don't…"

They both looked down at Iris when she let out a low moan. Seeing her wounds close up made both of them tremble and it must be admitted that Curtis turned a little green at the sight.

"Honey…if this was our Pell, hurt and dying, could you really leave him on the streets?"

"That's different…" Curtis said.

"No, it's not. If it was him on this road and someone else came along, wouldn't you want them to help him?"

Curtis raised both hands over his head in exasperation. "All right! All right! Put the girl in and let's get going before anyone sees us, then!"

Lorna, who had been ready to argue some more, quickly did as he said. It would never rest well with her conscience if she had agreed with her husband and walked away. She tried to move carefully, to avoid hurting the child in her arms further, but to no avail. Half-delirious, the child wept and Lorna made shushing noises. "You'll be okay," she heard herself saying, and whether it was to calm the child down, or to try and convince herself that that was the case, Lorna wasn't too sure.

Her husband looked over his shoulder nervously as he piled into the driver's seat of their small cart. The two dogs that shared the front seat with him, were barking louder than ever now and he pushed at one of them in frustration. "Quiet!" he growled, and picked up the reins to the horses. They whickered uneasily, their tails and ears twitching in anticipation to get out of there. The smell of blood seemed to have disquieted everyone, and Curtis was more than happy to oblige them by flicking the reins and jolting the cart forward.

The movement almost made Lorna lose her balance as she clambered into the back of the small vehicle. She gripped Iris to her as she crashed painfully into her son, who went sprawling onto the floor. "Pell!"

Picking himself up, Pell cast his mother a frightened look. "Ma, what's going on? Who's that girl? What happened to her?"

The cart began to pick up speed and both mother and son had to hold onto to something lest they repeat their earlier crash.

"Bandages!" Lorna panted, "Pell, get the bandages! Quickly!"

Bursting with curiosity, her son did as he was told, stumbling toward the box that they kept near the front of the cart. It was a small thing, brand new and very dusty seeing as how it had not been used since its purchase. He hurried back to his mother with it and thrust it into her waiting hands which were covered in blood. In dismay, Pell hissed.

"Hurry," his mother instructed, "help me…" but she could already see that there would not be enough bandages to wrap the child up. She knew she was fighting a losing battle. Pell knew it too, and he forced himself not to look at the way the girl's appendages were grotesquely dangling. His awe was enough to stop him from throwing up his dinner. The girl looked to be a few years younger than him. He couldn't help but wonder how it was that she had gotten such injuries.

With trembling fingers, he tried to help his mother, who was whispering prayers under her breath.

"This won't be enough," Pell murmured.

"I know that," his mother snapped. She was on the verge of tears. "We have to get help."

"We won't make it in time!" Curtis shouted, from the front seat. "The closest hospital is in Pamberton and that is a twenty minutes' ride from here!"

"We have no choice!" Lorna replied. "It's the only chance this child has got."

So, Curtis brought out his whip and began to spur the horses on faster. The cart, not made for quick travelling, creaked and groaned under the cruel assault of the speed and wobbled back and forth on its hinges so much so that the he began to believe it would not hold out for much longer. With each bump it hit on the road, Curtis winced, but he dared not slow his pace. The cart remained resilient, however, and kicked up a trail of dust behind them.

At first, fresh waves of pain rolled through Iris, but after a while, the pain began to subside. Like earlier, everything spun out of control to the point that she didn't bother to try and keep track of anything. Instead, she retreated to the first spot she could find that offered relief from the pain – bliss and oblivion.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Panicked, Sirius ran, his footsteps echoing in the deserted stairwell. Whenever he could, he skipped a few steps and continued on his way.

No one had seen him.

No one knew where he was.

Dread curled itself menacingly in his chest as he pulled open the door leading to the first floor.

He flew down the hallway, startling a few nurses who had just begun their night shift. They scrambled to get out of his way as he headed to the front desk. There, the Clerical Assistant was just hanging up the phone. He knew her name, but in his current flustered state, he couldn't remember it for the world. "Mr. Black?" she asked, confused.

"My friend!" Sirius wheezed, unable to say anything else for lack of breath.

"I'm sorry?"

"He's missing!"

Just as the words were out of his mouth, someone ran into the room. He was wearing a dark blue uniform, a customary outfit that all patient attendees wore. Sirius recognized him as one of the helpers of Dr. Fiorelli and thus, he had been in direct contact with Peter. "I've found him!" he announced, triumphantly.

Sirius pushed himself away from the polished, curving desk of the reception area. "Where?"

"He's in the gardens!" The attendee reported.

_The gardens?_ Sirius thought, furiously. He felt his anger, which was usually slow to burn, flare in him like a Roman candle. The moment Peter had gone missing, Sirius had alerted all of Peter's immediate hospital staff and had everyone search for him. When no one had been able to locate his whereabouts, well, you can expect that Sirius had thought the worst and yet the whole while, the boy had been in the _gardens_?

"Mr. Black? Mr. Black!" But Sirius was no longer listening to the Clerical Assistant. Turning his heel, he marched off in search of his charge.

Once he pushed open the double glass doors, wind nipped at his cheeks and trailed itself playfully through his wavy hair. It held a slight chill, making goose bumps rise along his neck and arms.

There were only a handful of people outside, and none of them paid any attention to him. Most of them were patients who were being escorted back into the hospital, or they were staff members who were on their way home from their shifts.

The gardens were not difficult to find. As the hospital edifice took up most of the land on which it was built, a very small portion had been set aside at the back of the building, allotting a place where patients could enjoy a peaceful afternoon. Hospital staff and volunteers took care of the area lovingly. In a place where there was so much pain and suffering, it was the only beautiful solace they could offer.

While not as many as in H.W. Academy, there was an assortment of different plants. Bent over what Sirius thought to be petunias (for he was not so knowledgeable in the field of Botany), was Peter. Behind his vacated wheelchair stood Seth Bailey.

Peter glanced up when Sirius stormed over. "What do you think you're doing?" The older boy demanded.

"S-Sirius…" The look on Peter's face went from confused, to terrified, to guilty. It was quite obvious to Sirius that he knew he was in trouble.

"You know very well that you are in no condition to stay outdoors!" Sirius shouted, grabbing Peter by the arm and shaking it. His skin was cold to the touch.

He was shocked when Seth interrupted, "Leave him alone! All he wanted to do was look at the flowers! You don't have to- "

Sirius glare was enough to stop Seth in mid-sentence. "You stay away from him," Sirius said, through clenched teeth. His tone left no doubt of warning, and he pulled Peter to his feet in one swift movement. "And, you. Get in your chair. Now."

Face white, Peter stumbled into his seat while Sirius whipped off his coat and shoved it roughly around him. Peter didn't dare make a sound of protest. He had never seen Sirius this angry before. He winced as his friend grabbed the back of the wheelchair and pushed it forward. "Don't you ever show your face around him again, do you understand that, mudblood?" It took him a moment to figure out that Sirius was talking to Seth. "If you do, you will have to answer to me."

And with that, he whirled Peter around and stalked off, back in the direction of the Hospital building.

White-washed hospital walls were a blur, as were the faces of staff members who watched them streak by. Nobody tried to stop them, and perhaps it was because of the way Sirius looked so menacing. As they reached the elevators, just past the lobby, Sirius punched the 'up' button and fumed, while he waited.

Didn't Peter _want_ to get better?

As if sensing his thoughts, Peter spoke up in a small voice, "Sirius…I…"

"I've tried," Sirius breathed, "to be patient. I trusted that you were smart enough." He shook his head, unwilling to meet his friend's pleading look. "If you want to stay here forever, that's fine by me. But I refuse to stay here any longer." He couldn't help himself, he supposed; he was absolutely sick of the hospital. He didn't want to remain there any longer. If Peter's condition worsened again, well, he wasn't going to condemn himself to wait out another recovery.

A janitor passed by at that moment and informed the two that the elevators were out of service for repairs, so Sirius began to push Peter toward the hallways with the ascending sloping floors without another word.

Peter couldn't remember a time when he'd felt awkward around Sirius, not even the first time they'd met. He'd always been completely at ease, and yet now, with his friend's stony silence, he was at a loss of what to do. He wished he could disappear rather than receive Sirius' wrath.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, his put his hands out to the rims of his wheels and tugged them to a stop. Sirius halted immediately with an angry click of his teeth. "Sirius, I didn't mean to make you worry."

The elder boy's anger sparked again. "Worry?" he repeated. " '_Worry_' is an understatement. Your safety is my responsibility! With all those soldiers around, do you know that I thought…!!!" he didn't finish his sentence, too upset to do so. He forced himself to take a deep breath to calm down. "Doctor Fiorelli was very specific that you didn't leave your quarters, and I know you are tired of being in bed, but what you did was not only very irresponsible, but selfish!"

Peter shrank slightly in his seat, pulling the draped coat closer to him in a way that looked like he was trying to shield himself from the scolding he was receiving. He was surprised when Sirius whispered, "I'm sorry, my lord, but if you continue to refuse our advice and our care, I'm afraid that there is no more need of my company."

Frightened, Peter turned to face him. "No, wait! Sirius! Please don't leave!"

"You always have things done your way," Sirius told him, clenching his fists. "No one ever contests what you want. But sometimes, things can go a little too far, Peter."

"I know what I did was wrong," Peter said, desperately. "I just…I wanted to pretend…that everything was different…even for just a moment."

"Well, it isn't. And it won't be, if you don't start to obey and do what you're told." As if on cue, Peter sneezed three times and Sirius frowned down at him as if to say _I-told-you-so_, and Peter blushed. "I hope you beg my pardon," Sirius said, in a tone that suggested that he was still disappointed.

Peter sniffled and said, "You have my apologies, sir. I promise I won't do anything foolish like this again."

"See to it that you don't," Sirius told him.

Disgraced, Peter meekly hung his head.

Before Sirius could start the long trek up to his rooms again though, they heard shouting coming from the lobby.

"Iris? Iris, are you okay?" someone was crying, over and over again.

Peter reached out to still the wheels of his chair one more time. "That was Seth's voice!"

Sirius sighed, frustrated. "Peter, I thought I said…"

"Please, Sirius! I think he's in trouble."

Hesitating only momentarily, Sirius reluctantly turned the wheelchair back around muttering, "That's the only thing this new friend of yours seems to bring."

When they reached the lobby again, there was a crowd of people that had gathered around the reception desk. Everyone was talking at once, but above the noise, Seth's voice could be heard. "Let go of me! Iris! Iris!!!"

Looking closer, they could see that the surrounding doctors were trying to restrain Seth from touching what looked like a bloody mound of clothing. Peter winced at the sight and didn't have to look up to know that Sirius was doing the exact same thing.

The crowd had parted enough so that they could see the mangled body that lay on a stretcher. "She's distorted," Peter whispered, directing his observation to no one in particular. He felt sick to the stomach.

"Don't look," Sirius advised him. He began to back the wheelchair up so that they could leave the scene behind them.

"I wonder what happened to her?"

"With wounds like those, it's quite difficult to determine," Sirius remarked.

"Please," a new voice called, getting everyone's attention. They turned to see a couple and a child who were standing by the entranceway. It was the first time Sirius noticed them. All three were covered in dirt and blood – more the latter than the former, though.

"We found her by a road close the Palace," the woman said, tears streaking down her cheeks. "We didn't know what else to do except to bring her here."

There was a brief scramble of people talking, and then, a doctor spoke up over them all. "There's nothing more we can do for her – she's dead."

"That's impossible!" Seth shouted.

But Sirius was more intent upon what the woman had said. "Does she resemble any of the Palace's children?" he asked Peter, in a low voice.

Blinking, the younger boy swiveled in his chair to look behind him. "I don't believe so. However, I haven't been back to the Palace for years, so I cannot be too sure…why?"

"I'm hoping it's not the case," Sirius said. Because if it was, then he was afraid to think about the possibilities of what that could imply. But by the time they were back in Peter's room, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. Were James' predictions that the Palace was no longer safe, correct?

Once Peter was tucked back in bed, Sirius pulled Dr. Fiorelli aside with the request that he follow up on Iris' death, since the man had been one of the Palace's practitioners.

His fears were confirmed, moments later, when the doctor came back, holding a letter in his hand. "This was found on the child's body," he informed them. "It was wrapped in a satchel around her waist under her clothing and it is stamped with the Royal Seal."

Peter sat up so fast that his pillows fell to the floor. "My father?" he demanded.

"I don't know, Your Highness," Dr. Fiorelli said. "I dared not to open it."

"Give it to me," Peter commanded.

"And the child?" Sirius asked, as Dr. Fiorelli did as he was bid. Peter tried to pry the seal apart with trembling fingers.

"She is unknown to me, sir," was the reply. "How she came to have this letter is a mystery. According to the Prince's newfound friend, she comes from the same orphanage as he. Her name was Iris."

"What was someone from an orphanage doing there?" Sirius wondered, and at that exact moment, Peter successfully managed to crack the seal.

Proceeding to pull out the parchment from within, Peter said, "Perhaps it will state in this letter."

"Do read it aloud then," the Doctor urged

So, the Prince scanned the note quickly. "It is from Her Majesty," he said, surprised. And so it was, for this is what was written:

_Addressed to Sir Lewis Edmund, Headmaster of H.W. Academy,_

_If this letter is being read by someone other than the above mentioned, then I beg you deliver this message. I, Felicity Matheson, do greet you with grave tidings. As inconceivable as it may seem, the Palace has fallen under siege. Therein, case to point, England has been threatened. _

_A Russian General who goes by the name Toma Ridel has infiltrated the Castle walls and has posted his army within. Someone in the official ranks is an insurgent and has allowed for Toma to not only control the English Army, but the whole state. All the roadways to and from major villages have been blocked, and are being thoroughly searched. As to Toma's true intent, I am not sure, but I have the knowledge that he has an interest in the Noble Houses. As such, the Academy's students have inevitably become a target, and therefore, I implore them to flee. _

_Toma's tyranny extends as far as harming children. If you've received this letter, it means the bearer has been able to slip past his guards. I must stress the emergence of the situation. _

_Written in my hand, by God's good graces,_

_Queen Felicity _

Sirius, who had been staring out the window listening to the letter being read aloud by Peter, turned in shock. Even Dr. Fiorelli looked as though he had been slapped across the face.

Eyes wide, Peter slowly lowered the paper. "Sirius…if what this letter says is true…"

"…then we are in grave danger," finished Sirius, grimly. He uncrossed his arms and nodded toward the parchment. "It sounds to me like Iris managed to escape the Palace grounds. If the guards followed her, she will have led them straight to us!"

Just as he said those words, he caught sight of a commotion outside of the Hospital gates. Sure enough, there was a small group of uniformed men who were forcing their way in.

Terrified, he met Peter's gaze.

The chase they had been so carefully avoiding had finally begun, and there was no where to hide.

**To Be Continued…

* * *

**

**AN:** Another chapter finished! I hope you guys enjoyed. I actually had a lot of fun writing it. I got a huge writer's block right in the middle of it, but thanks to my sister who listened to my ranting, I was able to sit down and finish it.

Another school year has started – let's hope it's a good one! That means that updates are going to come at their own pace, yet again. I'll just have to ask you to be patient. In the meantime, please leave me your thoughts and reviews on this latest installment (or the story in general) before you exit the window. Until the next update!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	16. Into The Hands of The Enemy

**OPTIVUS by P.P.V.V.**

Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

* * *

**AN:** I've finally been able to write. The month of October was a torturous. November does not seem to be any less so. In any case, I want to thank everyone for their awesome reviews. I don't know how to explain how much you guys managed to help me through these tough weeks. Here it is, everyone.

Forward. At last.

* * *

_Previously:_

_Peter slowly lowered the parchment. "Sirius…if what this letter says is true…"_

"…_then we are in grave danger," finished Sirius, grimly. "It sounds to me like Iris managed to escape the Palace grounds. If the guards followed her, she will have led them straight to us!"_

_Just as he said those words, he caught sight of a commotion outside of the Hospital gates. Sure enough, there was a small group of uniformed men who were forcing their way in._

_Terrified, he met Peter's gaze._

_The chase they had been so carefully avoiding had finally begun, and there was no where to hide.

* * *

_

**Chapter 16**

**- Into the Hands of the Enemy -**

James came down the stairs from his Dormitory Hallway, mentally keeping track of all the things he had yet to do. His hand skimmed the pommel of his sword, as if to reassure himself that he had strapped it to his person.

He was stopped by Sir William, who was dressed in a similar fashion: sensible travelling clothing and a warm cloak. He, too, had his sword at his side. "Sir James," he greeted, solemnly.

James dipped his head once. "Well met," he responded.

"The women have gathered in the Common Room and are ready for departure."

"Good. And those that will accompany them?"

William glanced over his shoulder. "They await further instructions." He hesitated before asking, "Is there no way for you to head them?"

James smiled, sadly. "I fear I cannot place myself in two places at once. I must cover our escape as best as possible."

"Then I am with you, sir," William told him, "if you would have me…"

The former Elite put his hand to the taller man's shoulder. "But would you not rather get to safety as soon as possible?"

"If there is no safety within the walls of this Academy, there is no security anywhere," Sir William said, grimly. "If we can only run for a period of time, I will do everything in my power to allow that time to be for as long as possible."

"Then, you have my thanks, sir."

Another man interrupted their conversation. "I would volunteer my services too, Sir James." It was Sir Francis. "I could not help but overhear, and I may not be the best of swordsmen, but H.W. Academy is my home. I cannot bear the thought that there will be no one left to return to it."

"What about the Lady Alice?" James asked, knowingly.

Sir Francis blushed. "I had the thought to stay with her, but I trust in the men you have appointed to protect the women and children. My place is here, sir. And I would have you know that there are others who are of the same opinion."

Hope kindled itself in James' breast. He would not have to stand alone. There was comfort in the thought that there would be others by his side. Unable to speak, he could only bow in gratitude.

The Common Room was just as Sir William had described it. The women were gathered together by the fireplace, and were listening to Lily as she spoke. All of them had their packs with them, and were drinking in every word, every instruction. The men that James had chosen from Gryffindor as escorts were standing and listening too.

"We will meet with the other women and children in the underground Throne Room," Lily was telling them. "Together, we'll follow the assigned route through the passageways."  
James moved forward, turning every eye to him. "If it is agreeable, then I regret to tell you that it is time," he announced. He glanced around and softened his voice. "Say your farewells, my friends, but don't fear: we will be well met again soon."

For a moment, no one moved, but then, Alice crossed the room to throw her arms around Sir Francis' neck. Other men stepped forward to hug their Ladies goodbye.

Lily watched them, feeling hollow. She tilted her head to the side when James said, "My Lady, if the men are not at the rendezvous point at the ascertained time, you must continue on."

Lily finally tore her gaze away from the scene before her, protesting, "But…!"

"You promised me," James reminded her. "We will catch up when we can. Please, I beg you to consider those you are responsible for." At her pained expression, he endeavoured to smile. "Everything will be just fine. Remus will show you the way."

He was about to turn away to give last minute instructions to said man, when she snatched his hand. "Wait."

Turning around, he fixed his raptor-like gaze to her once again. She tried to ignore the heavy feeling in her chest as she began to fish around in her pockets. At last, she found whatever it was she was looking for and proceeded to press it into the palm of his right hand. "Here," she said, "take this, for good luck."

It was cold and round and James instantly knew what it was, because often were the times he had trailed his fingers over the engraved symbols. Glancing down at it, he whispered, "Lily, I cannot take this…" Her pendant winked up at him, the raised symbols of the school's crest seeming to burn itself into his memory. "His Majesty bestowed this to you."

"Then make sure you stay alive to return it to me," she told him. "And don't worry, I have another good luck charm that I can wear in the meantime."

He saw then, that she was wearing the necklace that he had given her, in thanks for befriending his sister. It seemed as though that had been a lifetime ago.

Without another word, he clasped the pendant around his neck. The weight of it was familiar, yet foreign. Only a few months ago, he had worn the same pendant proudly. It had stood as a symbol, a burden that he had once been proud to wear. He remembered all the reasons that he had wanted to wear it in the first place.

So that no one would suffer any more.

So that justice could be brought to the offenders.

So that he could protect…

The woman in front of him was watching him closely, and he brought his arms up to grasp her shoulders.

Yes, he would protect her.

Slowly, James drew her into an embrace. "I'll return it in good speed," he promised.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, and told herself not to cry. Instead, she whispered, "I love you, James."

He seemed surprised by her statement, but then tightened his grip around her. "I love you too, Lily." He set her back and kissed his finger, putting it to her lips, before nudging her forward, toward the waiting group.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Sirius reminded Peter of a whirlwind, as he flew from one corner of the hospital room to the next, gathering their belongings and shoving it into the pack that they had brought with them months before.  
"Doctor, dress him warmly," Sirius instructed. "The nights still get cold, so I don't want to take any chances. We're leaving immediately." As he spoke, he drew out several articles of clothing and tossed it to the man.

Jumping to do as he was bid, Dr. Fiorelli got right to work. "How do you propose to get out?"

"I've a vague plan," Sirius said. "I can only hope it works."

What was he supposed to do?

Peter was obviously in no condition to run, and pushing him around in a wheelchair was going to slow them down. Leaving him where he was, however, was not an option either.

It would only be a matter of time before the soldiers found the room and searched it. He had to think and fast.

He felt like he was in dream as he methodically packed. "Peter, have you enough strength to walk?"

"I can walk," the boy said, "yet I regret expending energy earlier."

"Remember your mistakes," Sirius told him, curtly. "Maybe then you will learn from them."

Peter looked away, ashamed, and allowed the doctor to dress him obediently. "What about the other people at this hospital?"

"They will be safe," Sirius said, "for they do not know anything of substance that the soldiers can gather from them."

"Take this with you," Doctor Fiorelli said, producing a small pouch out from his pocket. "It was found on Iris' body as well, most probably given to her by Her Majesty just in case." Inside was a small handful of gold. "You may need it on your travels."

"Will you not join us?" Peter asked, taking it from him.

"I am an old man, Sire," the doctor said. "I cannot run very fast, or very far with my body. I will pack the necessary medical supplies you will need. Make sure you follow the instructions I give you."

Sirius hastily strapped his sword to his waist, checked to make sure that he had his compass, and swiftly lifted the flap to the bag up and over, pulling the strings and straps closed.

Peter's voice was muffled as he tried to speak while pulling a sweater over his head. His left arm swung in the air as he tugged at the dark gray material. "They will not be able to tell me apart from any other patient. Perhaps it's not prudent to leave so quickly."

"Better to be safe than sorry," Sirius told him, tossing Peter's sword up onto the bed. "These men have been searching for you for a long time. I am certain they have clues."

The younger boy succeeded in poking his head out from the sweater. His sand-brown hair stuck up in tufts where static had decided to sway it. Of course, Sirius was right, and as much as he had wished he could leave the hospital, he hadn't wanted it to be in this fashion.

Dr. Fiorelli distracted him by explaining the medications and precautions to take when on the run. He made Peter repeat them to him afterwards, three times, before he addressed Sirius. "The roads are blocked, and soldiers patrol every street." He watched as Sirius strapped the pack on his shoulders securely. "You haven't any horses to help you get about."

"We'll think of something," Sirius said.

"But where will you go?"

"We'll think of something."

Fiorelli crossed his arms. "This is the Prince's life on the line, Sir Sirius. You cannot just go out there blindly without a plan! You must think of somewhere safe - "

"-There is no safe place anymore, good sir," Sirius cut in, rather harshly. "If what Her Majesty writes is true, then we dare not trust anyone. The Nobility must scatter, and the throne is usurped from within! Our lines of defence have fallen. There is nothing I can think to do except to get Peter out of immediate harm's way."

The hallways were empty of patients and doctors, most likely because no one had yet realized that something was amiss. There was even a faint ring of laughter that they could hear from one of the rooms. It was better that way, Sirius decided, since it would help them escape without any questions asked.

He signalled for Peter to be quiet and to follow him. He proceeded to lead them down the hallways, his footsteps inaudible. Despite his condition, Peter kept up quite well, his small eyes darting back and forth, warily.

They managed to get to the stairwell without meeting a single person. Sirius leaned over the railing to peer down at the stairs below them and then up at the stairs ascending above them.

No.

With the elevator out of service, they were going to encounter soldiers there on the stairwell.

But…they would encounter soldiers in the sloping hallways, too…

As if to make things worse, Peter whispered, "How will we get down to the main floor without getting caught?"

"I had thought to use the air ducts," Sirius whispered back, "but that will take too long."

He thought on the map that the Doctor had managed to get him. The floor plans had been sketchy and incomplete. He supposed that whoever had drawn it hadn't had the fear of escaping the hospital in haste.

He didn't get the chance to keep thinking because suddenly they heard the sound of running footsteps and voices echo up the stairwell.

Hastily, Sirius pulled Peter with him and backed out into the hallway once more. He tightened his hold on the straps around his shoulders.

They were trapped.

He stared hard at the doorway, thinking fast, and weighing his options carefully. They could climb upward, he supposed, but that would get them nowhere because it would take them in the opposite direction of where they needed to go.

Or they could charge down the stairwell and take on as many soldiers as they could.

Peter tugged at his sleeve, but Sirius ignored it, still lost in his thoughts.

If he was alone, he would be able to fight the soldiers – after all, they could not come up all at once. He could fight one-on-one, but he didn't want to put Peter in any harm if he could help it.

Again, Peter tugged at his sleeve, and yet again, Sirius ignored it.

If they tried the hallways, it would be riskier, and the soldiers might use the other patients as hostages.

It was too risky.

Exasperated, Peter jerked Sirius toward him, and irritated, Sirius turned and glared at him. "Peter," he hissed, "I'm trying to - "

Silently, Peter gave him a defiant look before using his finger to point.

Sirius followed the finger and understood what it was Peter was trying to say.

The garbage chute.

"It's the fastest way," Peter whispered. "It will lead us straight down, and the soldiers would never think to look there."

Sirius had to agree, despite the fact that he did not like the idea.

Without waiting for an answer, Peter took the handle to the garbage chute and opened it.

The smell that wafted out made both of them gag. It seemed big enough to fit both of them together, if they wanted to.

Peter suddenly looked like he regretted his decision. "It's this or be captured," he said, in a low voice. To Sirius, it sounded as though he were trying to convince himself.

"Well?"

Sirius swallowed and nodded, gravely. "You go first. I will follow shortly after, in case any of the soldiers think to go in. At least I will separate them from you for a little while."

Hesitating for only a moment, Peter positioned himself by the chute's opening and pushed himself in.

Sirius followed, filling his lungs with air and holding his breath so that he wouldn't have to smell the putrid aromas. When he slid into the chute, the opening slammed behind him with a sharp sound that caused his ears to ring.

After that, he was falling, slicking along down what felt like a steep slide. There was a watery substance that kept him going, and he didn't want to think about what it was.

Several times, he bumped painfully along a ridge, or he was smashed against a wall as the chute sharply turned and his momentum did not prepare him for it. It was at times like those that his breath flew from his lungs and he gasped, choking as he inhaled the muggy and damp air.

At last, he was deposited, falling roughly beside Peter, who had managed to stumble out of the way. Their landing was cushioned partially by the numerous amounts of garbage that had already accumulated by the mouth of the makeshift slide.

Peter looked dazed, and he struggled to right himself as Sirius flopped over and promptly began to hurl. He had not liked the feeling of falling at all, and the smell and sudden feel of solid ground under his feet disoriented him. He decided that he would never try a stunt like that again.

It took him a few moments to calm the spinning room. It was dimly lit with soft lights that protruded from the stone walls. Several other chutes were visible, along with a large metal door. One the right wall there stood a furnace that was unlit. The night crew had not yet come to burn the compost and Sirius was glad of it. The heat was already beyond normal in the small cavern-like room. It was probably sealed tightly to stop any smells from escaping. The thought of smoke and burning garbage prompted Sirius to vomit again.

Peter's echoed around the room. "Sirius, are you all right?"

"I will be once we get out of here," Sirius told him, through retches.

How had he gotten into this mess?  
"Can you get up?" Peter sounded infuriatingly amused. For someone who had been pampered since birth, he didn't seem the least bit concerned that he was covered in grime and bits of leftover food.

Sirius checked himself, and shakily got to his feet. "I think so…" He shivered in disgust as he glanced around the room.

Peter threw him a witty glance. "If the soldiers thought to come after us, you probably would not have been much help in your condition."

Sirius scowled, and began to dust off his coat as much as possible. So what if he was grossed out? He couldn't help but admire how Peter tromped through the mess without a second thought. He was forced to follow, and for once, he was glad that he had someone leading the way.

They came to a stop at the metal door. "There's no handle," Peter said, after a brief examination. "Do you suppose it can only open from the outside?"

Sirius dearly hoped not. He didn't think he could stand being in this room for much longer.

When he didn't answer, Peter turned to look at him over his shoulder again. "I didn't think you would end up getting so sick," he noted.

"The fall…" Sirius breathed, irritably. He was a climber: heights didn't scare him. Never in his life had he fallen so fast and far before.

"Well, we're down here now," Peter soothed. "There will likely be no more descents."

That made Sirius feel a lot better, because he pulled himself together and began to run his fingers over the metal. It was just as Peter had said: there was no knob in sight. "There must be a switch of some sort, then," he said, craning his neck to look up to where the door began.

Peter scanned the walls, gave a shout, and waded through the garbage to the opposite side of the chamber. Sirius turned around in time to see the younger boy's hand slap at something.

With a piercing shriek that foretold of pulleys that were in desperate need of oiling, the metal doorway began to move, folding in on itself. The sudden jerk and shudder of the huge contraption almost made Sirius fall over. Peter made it back to his side just as the door opened all the way, letting in the fresh smell of the early springtime's air.

Sirius welcomed it gladly, moving out, with Peter close on his heels. His eyes adjusted quickly enough to find that they were standing in what looked like a ramp close to the rear of the hospital building. The garbage collectors probably came through this way, and he crouched as he cautiously led them forward.

Night had settled in comfortably by this time. The crickets had started their nightly orchestra, and from where they stood, they could see tiny points of light that danced and twisted through the trees ahead.

Fireflies.

Brushing back his hair from his forehead, Sirius knelt and drew out his compass. "If there are Fireflies, there is a river," he whispered. "We should be able to follow it to the Northwood Forest. Since the roadways have been blocked, we can travel through there and reach the outskirts of Hogsmeade in three days at most."

"Perhaps more," Peter put in, "if we mean to travel by foot."

Sirius let out a hiss of breath through his teeth as he thought. He had almost forgotten that his friend was incapacitated. At this rate, it would take them a week to get to the Academy and they didn't have that time to waste. For all they knew, it could already be under attack. There was no way of knowing when the letter discovered on Iris' person, had been written.

It could be too late.

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, though, and checked to make sure the coast was clear. The whole world had probably heard the steel door open, and he wasn't looking forward to fighting anybody, especially with Peter so vulnerable.

The Prince, however, had taken it upon himself to unsheathe his sword, and Sirius found himself wishing James were present. Sirius whispered, "You remember what I taught you about covering your tracks, right?"

Peter puffed out his chest, proudly. "I can do that very well, thank you."

Sirius couldn't help but smile. "Good. We'll try to throw the soldiers off our trail."

"They won't need tracks," Peter pointed out, as Sirius began to lead them forward. "They can just follow our smell and they'll find us in no time."

Ugh. He was right. The smell was probably going to stay with them for weeks and only get worse. Sirius grimaced at the thought. All the soldiers would have to do was use dogs to track them down.

"Come on," Sirius said, turning around so that his back was toward Peter, and kneeling. When the younger boy stared at him, blankly, Sirius said, "I will carry you."

Peter shook his head. "I'll be fine for a little longer…"

"Get on, Peter. If it comes down to running, I need you to hold your own weight. For the time being, I can help you to reserve your energy."

At that, Peter blushed. He had never been carried on anyone's back before. He found it horribly mortifying. When Sirius said his name warningly, he sheathed his sword and moved forward. He secured his arms around Sirius' neck and allowed him to pick him up. His voice was small and embarrassed when he said, "You won't…you won't tell Remus about this, will you?" he was certain the man would never let him live it down.

"You have my word," Sirius promised, swallowing a chuckle. "I shall not breathe a word to anyone if you so desire." He was actually very worried about the way Peter's weight was light – too light, in fact. He kept those thoughts to himself, though. That diet that the hospital had had him so rigidly follow was probably the reason why he hadn't gained back much. After all, his body was still recovering from its operation. He supposed it could be worse.

He had no sooner gotten the boy on his back when they heard the sound of footsteps coming toward them.

Damn!

Their exit had been heard after all.

Hastily, he made Peter clamber back down, shoving him back so that he was pressed against the wall. He then bent and gathered stones in one hand, knowing that he would not have time to draw his sword.

"Who goes there?" A voice demanded, just as Sirius was about to whip the fistful forward. A blinding flashlight made both of them flinch.

_That voice…_

The light was cut abruptly. "Sir Sirius?" There, standing before them, was the highest of the commanders of the King's Army. His countenance, usually stern, was now shocked. His golden locks were pulled back into a formal ponytail, the way the Lupin Household were known to do. Remus had gotten most of his looks from his father, from the prominent nose to the broad shoulders, because Sirius had almost mistaken them to be one and the same.

Relief filled the youth at seeing him, and the rocks he had been intending to attack with, clattered back to the ground once again. "Sir Cyath!"

"What are you doing here?" The man asked, at the same time Peter decided to echo, "Sir Cyath?"

The man looked torn between wanting to gape and fall to one knee. "Your Highness! Thank the Heavens above, you're safe!" he glanced behind him, his face anxious. "There's no time to explain," he started to say, but Peter held up a hand.

"We already know – the Castle is under attack. Toma now has control over the kingdom's affairs. And if you're here with the Russian soldiers, I can only guess that he really does control the King's Army."

Sir Cyath nodded, gravely. "Our forces were split and forced to join Toma's. They've been searching for you for months now."

"We're well aware," Sirius put in. "James told us that the safest place to hide was right under the Enemy's nose, and that's why he chose a hospital so close to the Palace. It looks like our luck has run out."

Again, Sir Cyath nodded. "Sir James made a good tactical decision."

"We need to get to the Academy," Sirius told him, cutting straight to the point. "It is Toma's next trump card. He has the King's Army posted all over the school. If the Army is really under his control, all it would take is his word to slaughter the students within."

Twirling his flashlight in his hand, Sir Cyath thought hard. "My men may be loyal to the crown and do everything in their power to obey the King's command, but they are not cruel men. They would do no such thing."

"Are all your men trustworthy, sir?" Sirius shot back. "Insurgents were within the King's court. They betrayed him. They betrayed the country!"

At that, Cyath bowed his head.

Peter put an arm out, to stop the heated discussion. "Enough," he commanded. "Arguing out here will do us no good. Sir Cyath, will your men still follow your orders?"

"I'm certain of it," Sir Cyath said, immediately. "But we dare not fight with the Russian soldiers because His Majesty is still at Toma's mercy. Not to mention everyone within the Palace."

Peter tried to rearrange his jacket around him, hitching it up further against the sudden chill he felt. "I've got a plan," he said, "but I will need your cooperation." He looked to both men to make sure he'd gotten their attention. "If we do this right, we might all get out of this alive."

Sirius and Cyath leaned forward to hear him better, and Peter glanced from one to the other, solemnly. "You've got to agree to it first, before I tell you."

Sirius shook his head. "Peter…"

"Trust me."

This time, the two older men exchanged doubtful glances. Finally, Sir Cyath said, "Well, we'd have no choice if you were to command it, my lord."

A look of pain flashed behind Peter's eyes and for a moment, it looked like he was too upset for words. Sir Cyath looked to Sirius in bewilderment, who merely smiled back and bent over so that he was eye to eye with Peter. He knew how Peter felt about wielding his authority and the implications it always brought with it. "Peter, sometimes decisions have to be made for the greater good. It's all right to give your command if you know it will benefit others."

"I know…" Peter sounded resigned.

Sirius leaned back. "Why do I get the feeling that I am not going to like what you are going to propose?"

Peter's voice was hardly more than a whisper when he answered, "Because it's going to involve you handing me over to the enemy."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Somehow, the Academy seemed forlorn. Each tick of the Grandfather's clock seemed to reverberate through to the building's foundations.

To say that he was relieved that the women and children were safe and well on their way would have been a lie. He was more nervous than ever, praying that they would not encounter anything troublesome. If they were going to be pursued, then James prayed that they would at least have a good head start

His breath was leaving a cloud of mist on the windowsill as he glanced down below at the courtyard, trying to steel himself against what was to come.

Sir Edmund watched him, shrugging on his overcoat. "Sir James?"

"Professor, there is going to be bloodshed," James said, not tearing his gaze away from the beautiful sight of the well-maintained gardens.

"This is war, my boy," the Headmaster said, frankly. "It's to be expected."

At that, James turned to face him. "I suppose so."

"Are you afraid?"

"I would be a fool if I wasn't," said James. "I'm terrified!"

The Headmaster seemed sympathetic. "Perhaps it would have been better if you had gone along with the women and children…"

James glanced to the windows again. Where were they now? "There is something I have yet to do, Professor. I cannot leave this place without it."

Master Edmund came around to stand by his desk, reaching over to girdle a rather worn and simple-looking sword to his waist. He reminded James of Professor Merrythought, so suddenly, that a lump hit the younger boy's throat. How he wished his mentor was still alive! "The men who have volunteered to stay behind with you, number one hundred at most. The Headmaster did not seem to notice James' grief. "Will that be enough?"  
James forced himself to speak. "That is more than I could have hoped for," he said, with bow of his head. "The rest of you should be ready to leave now."

As if on cue, the clock struck the early hours of the morning, interrupting their conversation. The sound was almost deafening, and when it was over, James clasped hands with the elder. "We will catch up as soon as possible," he said, trying to sound confident.

"Let's just hope all will go according to your plans."

James' grip tightened slightly. "They must, or I will have put us all into danger that we will likely never be able to escape from." His voice had lost some of its earlier confidence. "I've gambled with our lives, but you must understand that I had no other choice. If it comes down to a fight, then I am well content with the thought that I was able to protect some people."

Professor Edmund studied the student briefly. "Perhaps I should go in your stead," he said at last, knowingly.

James seemed to read his line of thought. "No matter what happens to me, I will not breathe a word. I will not fail the Crown again, I promise."

At last, they released hands. "Go see to your men, and good luck."

But James did not go to see his men. Instead, he skirted the underground passageway that would have led back to the Gryffindor Tower. While the map was not in his possession any longer, he was fairly confident of his knowledge of the maze and he followed the route he had taken a countless number of times since his entry into the prestigious Academy.

He followed the tunnel that wound toward the Drawing Room, and checked that the coast was clear before clambering out. Ever since the incident of the infiltration, he had not returned to the room. It wasn't so much that it brought back bad memories, but that everyone seemed to avoid it because that was the place wherein Ivan, the leader of the operation, had died.

The mess of his body had been cleaned up, though, and the room was spotless, with no outward sign that a battle had ever been fought there. Unlike the curtains in the Headmaster's office, the ones in the Drawing Room were drawn, allowing for only a minimal amount of light to peek through in shafts.

James was glad for it though, because it meant that this room was not being guarded. He knew, however, that the hallways just beyond it would be, and so, he moved as noiselessly as possible to the door. From there, he would be able to get to his destination much faster.

Sure enough, there were guards posted along the hallway, when he opened the door to peer out. Pulling back, he scrambled for a possible solution, but he could not come up with anything that would not attract attention.

He needed a diversion, and fast.

When he went to examine the positions of the soldiers again, he did not expect to see a dark face inches away, staring back at him. Barely unable to contain his startled cry, James recoiled, his surprise nearly causing his knees to give way from under him. His heart kicked up a rhythm that seemed to throb all the way up to his throat.

The split second of his shock cost him the precious moment to draw his sword. He found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. The man's voice came out as a snarl. "Step back, boy."

Slowly, James lifted his hands and did as he was told.

The man easily slipped into the dark room, the gun still trained on the student. "And now, you will explain what you are doing lurking around here at this time of the morning," he said.

James braced himself, as a single phrase ran through his mind. _No matter what happens to me,_ _I will not breathe a word. _

He closed his eyes, and he heard the barrel to the gun click.

_Not a word…._

**To Be Continued…

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**

**AN: **It turned out longer than I expected it to, but is anyone complaining? Thank you to everyone who has kept up with me so far even though my updates are slow. Like I mentioned before, my schedule is tight, so I will try my best to write the next chapter as fast as I can. I can't stress how much your feedback inspires me to write, so please, let me know your thoughts!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	17. Turning the Tables

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

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**AN:** This time around, I finished a chapter much faster. As for everyone's emails and reviews, they are much appreciated! I hope this chapter eases the pain and agony of waiting. That said,

Onward.

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_Previously:_

_James did not expect to see a dark face inches away, staring back at him. Barely unable to contain his startled cry, James recoiled, his surprise nearly causing his knees to give way from under him. His heart kicked up a rhythm that seemed to throb all the way up to his throat._

_The split second of his shock cost him the precious moment to draw his sword. He found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. The man's voice came out as a snarl. "Step back, boy."_

_Slowly, James lifted his hands and did as he was told._

_He closed his eyes, and he heard the barrel to the gun click.

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_

**Chapter 18**

**- Turning the Tables -**

"I didn't think that breaking curfew warranted death," James heard himself muse, aloud. The soldier in front of him had not yet pulled the trigger, and that made him feel reckless. At this point, he was at the soldier's mercy, and he could hardly believe that he had said those words. Maybe it was his fear that was making him be so flippant.

There was a brief pause, and the gun was lowered, though only slightly. James did not dare to move an inch though, keeping his eyes locked onto the weapon. He already knew what it felt like to be shot, and he desperately did not want to feel that type of pain again.

"This Academy has been infiltrated before," the man told him. "Now that there are Russian soldiers residing in Hogsmeade Village, we are on the alert that another student at the Academy might let them in again. How do I know that you are not a traitor?"

James lifted his eyes so that he was looking at the soldier's dark face again. The man must have been a few years older than him, at most. His features were still young but that did not mean that he had not seen his fair share of battles. "How do I know that you're not working for Toma?"

The gun wavered at the mention of the man's name. His arm came up again, though this time, it was shaking. "How do you know that name?"

"I have my sources."

"So you _are_ working for the Russians!" The soldier cried.

"Actually, I'd sooner take on Toma myself and die in the process."

The soldier narrowed his eyes. "You? Stop Toma? On your own?" The questions were asked with an air of incredulity.

Another flippant response came out before James could stop himself. "Anything's better than taking his orders." He felt his anger rise at the mere thought. "I would rather die than betray His Majesty. If you mean to shoot me, do it now, otherwise, lower your weapon and let me be on my way."

Time seemed to stop as the soldier contemplated James' words. His gaze was drawn to the silver pendant around James' neck, and he breathed, "You're an Elite?"

James had almost forgotten about the ornament. He, too, glanced down at it. "No," he said, truthfully. "It's my Lady's."

"Lady Lily?"

Of course, everyone would have heard about the sole female Elite to ever make it on the ring. James felt himself smiling at the memory of her – of her smile, of her warmth, of her lips on his… he shook himself out of his reverie. "Yes."

"Why isn't she wearing it?"

James raised an eyebrow, in a show that he wasn't pleased with the prying question. "Is finding out about couples' traditions part of your job description, too, good sir?"

Even in the darkness, he could see the soldier blush. With a flustered movement, he lowered the gun and stuck it back in its holster by his waist. Surprised, James slowly put his hands down, asking, "How do you know that you can trust me?" and inwardly, he chided himself for the way he continually made offhand remarks – why couldn't he just stay silent?

"Your Lady is an Elite."

As if that was a good explanation.

"What of it?"

"Everyone knows who the Lady Lily's lord is." At James' silence, the man bowed. "Sir James, it's an honor to make your acquaintance. I am known as Kingsley from the Shacklebolt Household."

James tested his name on his tongue. "Sir Kingsley…"

"Forgive me for my assumptions, sir."

James finally remembered his courtesies and bowed back, and only after he had done so, did Kingsley stand straight again. "The King's Army heard of your bravery against the infiltrators. You're also well known for standing up to His Majesty when it came to having his son sent to the Academy."

Great, so he was known for being stubborn.

Sheepishly, he brought a hand up to ruffle through his untidy locks. "I don't blame you for being wary," he said. "And I'm glad to note that Toma's hold on the army here is not as tight as I had thought it would be."

"How _did_ you manage to figure out that Toma is giving us instructions?" Kingsley asked.

"I deduced as much, what with the way the King has not recalled his army, even if there is no threat to the Academy. Toma moving his Russian troops into Hogsmeade Village was his biggest mistake. While the King's Army may seem to be stationed here on the pretense of protecting us from those soldiers in the village, it doesn't make sense that they would not have any reinforcements – you are outnumbered. It would be an easy slaughter."

Kingsley thoughtfully slid his hand over his now-pocketed gun. "Toma has the King under his control. It happened well before the infiltration of this Academy, months ago. One wrong move on our end, and he will end the King's life."

That much James had gathered, too. It was a good thing he had had Peter leave, or else England would have fallen completely. There was still a chance to avoid a checkmate, but to do so would require great risks and a great number of lives that James was not so willing to relinquish. "Do the others think the way you do?" he asked.

"The way I do?"

"About Toma and his plans."

"We're all against them. But what choice do we have, with the King in Toma's hands? We are forced to do anything he orders us to."

James said bluntly, "So you are ready to sully your hands with the blood of innocent bystanders."

The soldier grit his teeth. "I've sworn my allegiance to His Majesty. I will not disregard his commands."

"Even if they did not come from him?" James demanded. "He's being used as a puppet - you said so yourself! Any orders that you receive now are from Toma, and if you act on them, I would classify that as nothing more than treason to the Throne.

"If you are as faithful to your allegiance as you say you are, yet are still willing to convene against the students of this Academy, then you might as well revoke your word and forfeit your life."

Kingsley seemed struck by James' harsh words. Feeling a stir of anger, he demanded, "And what would _you_ do in our position?"

It must be confessed that James had not anticipated that question to be thrown at him. In fact, it made him hesitate momentarily before he made up his mind. "I would fight back. The King would never wish harm on anyone in his kingdom," he said, confidently. "I'm certain he would never want his soldiers to forget their humanity. His Majesty would never fault you for his death, if that were the case."

Kingsley could not help but be in awe of the younger man. While he was too idealistic, he seemed to know the King well. He spread his hands out, in a frustrated gesture. "The King's Army has been spread thinly and put alongside Toma's troops. There are not enough of us to fight back within each section. Also, our treaty states -"

James snarled, "The Russians broke the treaty with us first, invading our land and holding our King hostage. We should not stand by and let that go unpunished. The other pockets of the army will come to that realization, too, and if not, let this be a wake up call for them."

The soldier watched as James pushed past him toward the door again. "That all sounds well and good," Kingsley said, hurrying to stand next to the door, too, "but now you've got your work cut out for you."

"And whatever do you mean by that, good sir?"

"It means, that you will have to convince the rest of the army of your ideas."

The weight of that responsibility was daunting.

He wasn't asking for a truce.

He was asking to go to war.

But going to war meant that sacrifices had to be made – and this time, the price was the King's life.

Good heavens, how had things gotten so complicated?

**0-0-0-0-0**

It was cold, dark and dank. The ceiling arched up, high enough that in the darkness, one could not see where it ended, and because of the seemingly vast amount of space, every sound echoed.

Sniffs from the children, low murmurs from the men, the constant shuffle of feet…

To top everything off, was the smell, which Celena could not quite get used to. She kept her hand over her mouth and nose, concentrating on following the other ladies while trying to keep tears from coming to her eyes.

There was so much that had gone unanswered – she had thrown her things together when her brother had commanded them all to. Never had she seen him so angry before, not even when she had been younger and a maid had tried to beat her. Thinking about him made her teary again, and she quickly reached up to wipe them away with trembling fingers.

She hadn't even said goodbye…

Something white came into her view.

"My Lady?"

Sucking back a gasp, Celena followed the white cloth to a hand, and saw that it was being held by none other than Lily. "Are you all right?"

"Lady Lily…"

The redhead gave her an encouraging smile. "Your brother asked me specifically to watch over you in his stead," she told her. "I'm sorry I couldn't find you earlier." She wagged the cloth in an invitation for the girl to take it and Celena did, gratefully. "I was a little busy, but Sir Remus is taking over, for now."

Celena managed a smile, using the handkerchief to mop at her face. "I'm fine, thank you," she said, though her voice wavered. "I'm frightened."

"We all are," Lily said, holding her smile in place, firmly.

Behind them, the squeak of wheels from one of the carts stopped and she broke off her conversation to see what was wrong. A handful of men jogged over to inspect it.

"It's stuck," Sir Dane reported. "It looks like it hit a crag of some sort." He sent word down the groups to inform everyone to halt. It would do no good to get separated, especially from the supplies.

"What about the rest of the carts?" Lily asked.

"They're intact, but we need to get this one free."

Turning back to Celena, Lily said, "Hopefully this won't take long…"

"Do you think the soldiers will run after us?" the younger girl asked.

"I hope not." Lily had to force herself to smile again, for Celena's sake. "Why don't we wait over there?" she asked, motioning to a nearby group of women who had settled themselves on the floor. She led her to sit next to a Lady that she had never made acquaintances with before, trading nods with the unknown woman.

Celena tucked her heavy skirts underneath her after finding a vacant place to sit, on top of what looked like a brick. Lily sat down, too, on another piece of rubble, straddling it with her legs, her sword clanking against the hard stone.

Taking up their example, the rest of the groups found places to make themselves comfortable while the men worked at lifting the large and heavy wagon. It was weighted down with supplies and it obstinately stayed rooted to the ground.

Celena's eyes were drawn to Lily's weapon. While she did not agree with giving a woman such a brutal weapon, she couldn't help but envy Lily that at least she had some sort of protection with which she could use.

Lily followed her line of sight and said, "James started teaching me how to use it, but I'm not really a good student."

"So it's true, then."

"You'll find that gossip can be surprising that way."

Celena began to wring the handkerchief nervously and Lily craned her neck to watch the men's progress. A few more had gathered around the incapacitated cart and were working on heaving it upward, together. "Do you think we'll ever get to go back?"  
Lily turned to face James' sister again. "Of course we will. Think positively, my Lady." She reached out to still Celena's hands. The handkerchief now looked like a wound up spring. "Maybe, when we return, we will be reunited with Sir Sirius and Sir Peter."

Sirius' name caused a spark of hope to gleam in the girl's eyes "I don't know how you manage to do it," Lily said, "being apart from him for so long, that is."

"I have not heard from him, since he left," Celena murmured.

It seemed Lily wasn't doing much to comfort the younger woman. Determined to stay encouraging, she nudged her friend's knee. "I bet you that he thinks of you, every day."

Celena began to wring the cloth again, absently, yet not quite as vigorously as before. "I can only pray for his safety. And now, I must also pray for my brother's." She raised her head to peer up at Lily. "Why is it that the men I love most are the ones who are always getting themselves into trouble?"

Lily felt tears of her own spring to her eyes. "Because it's their duty," she said, bitterly.

They stopped talking then, because a child interrupted them. He reached out to tug on one of Lily's pant legs, and amused, the Elite looked down at him. His hair was full of beautiful brown curls, and his face was peppered with freckles. When he spoke, Lily noticed that there was a gap in the bottom row of his teeth.

He bowed so smartly that Lily was obliged to return it. Afterwards, he said, "My Lady, can we go home now?"

Lily was at a loss of what to say, but Celena quickly rescued her. "We'll go home as soon as we finish our mission," she said.

The boy turned to look at the woman, and bowed smartly, again. Celena, however, was much better at returning the salute, despite the fact that she was seated: then again, Celena had been trained in courtesies all her life. From what Lily had seen of the woman, she was perfect at them. "We are on a mission?" he asked.

Celena glanced at Lily from the corner of her eye and quickly responded, "Why, yes! Hasn't Professor Medy told you? We are out to look for…a secret hiding place. When we find it, we will have a reward!"

"A secret hiding place?" the child echoed, disbelievingly.

Celena held a finger to her lips. "It is a secret, so we cannot tell anyone and we must creep very quietly."

The little boy copied her actions and put a finger to his lips, as well. "Why are we finding that hiding place, Lady?" he whispered.

Again, Celena spun up another tale, her tone so convincing that even Lily would have believed it, had she been the boy's age. "It's a Festival activity, of course! Since we are helping to host the festivities, we are expected to participate."

The little boy seemed to contemplate that for a moment, before he put the finger to his lips again. "It's a secret," he stressed.

"Yes, it's a secret, so you must tell all the rest of your playmates to behave for the Professor, or else we will get disqualified," Celena told him, solemnly.

He nodded, satisfied with the answer, before asking brightly, "Lady, will you be my wife?"

That caused both Celena and Lily to laugh out loud. The latter could see why the boy would ask such a thing, because Celena was so beautiful that every man became enamored instantly.

She bent down to tap his nose. "Young sir, know that I shall carry your feelings with me in my heart forever," was her simple response, "but I'm certain there is another for you, who is not me."

Her short, elaborate speech made the little lad flush with pleasure. "I am known as Dewyn, son of Demin, of House Prewitt," he said, excitedly.

"I am Celena," she replied, amused, "from the Potter Household."

Dewyn considered her name, and gave her a wide smile. "Do not forget me, Lady Celena," he said, holding his head up proudly.

Celena made a show of covering her heart with both hands. "I shall not," she promised. "It's best you get back with the other little ones," she said, nodding to the group across from them, where Professor Medy, a young, thin lady, had started counting the children like a hen her chicks. "Off you go," she instructed, and Dewyn reluctantly parted company with them.

Lily tucked her arms around her stomach, tightly, crouching a little as she noted, "I never knew you liked children so much, Lady Celena."

Celena smiled, wistfully. "They _are_ precious, aren't they?"

"You're really good with them. You'd make a wonderful mother."

"I could not know what a mother is like," Celena said, "for mine was never present."

Lily had almost forgotten about that. The only person that Celena had grown up with had been James and the servants of her household. Lily at least, had been raised by her mother. "I still think you'd make a wonderful mother," she insisted. "On another note: it looks like mischief runs within the Potter family."

"How do you mean?"

"A 'secret hiding place'?"

Celena blushed. "It is not a lie, in a sense. We must hide somewhere – and it will help to have the children play along. The truth will only frighten them. This way, they might at least cooperate, for a little while."

Lily glanced over at the children, who were watching Dewyn and were copying his actions of putting a finger to their lips. Yes, it looked like Celena's endeavors had worked, at least.

Celena, too, looked to be calmer, and Lily wondered whether it was because she had given comfort, or if it was because she had come to the realization that panicking and crying would do her no good. Whatever the case, by the time the cart was set back on all four of its wheels, Lily hoped that she could manage to keep the panic from the rest of the crowd.

It was going to be a long journey.

A thought hit her as they started up again, shuffling forward at their slow, steady pace. Celena marched next to her, hands clasped around her pack that hung from her shoulders. "How many children do you suppose Sir Sirius will want to have?" Lily asked.

"That depends. How many do you think Sir James will want?"

The quick retort made Lily blink and pause. Her friend continued forward, not breaking her stride. This time, Lily blushed and hurried forward again, calling for Celena, who was laughing, to wait for her.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Bound, Peter stumbled as Sir Cyath pushed him forward. Next to him, looking mutinous was Sirius.

Trying to ease his suddenly dry throat, Peter swallowed, and concentrated on preparing himself for what was to come.

Was he doing the right thing, or was he playing the card that the enemy had expected him to?

It was too late, though, as they rounded the corner and stepped into the presence of at least fifty armed soldiers. Seeing them made Peter's blood run cold. If Sir Cyath hadn't been gripping him by the elbow, he might have fallen over at the mere sight of them.

Sirius seemed to grow paler too, his brown eyes growing wider and rounder when he took in their uniforms and their weapons. Half of them, he noticed, were from the King's Army.

Every single head riveted toward them.

For the breadth of a second, Sir Cyath hesitated, before striding forward. "I found these two trying to escape."

"Dear lord, it's Sir Sirius!" a voice cried out, sounding both pained and shocked.

Sirius recognized that voice, too. Sir Rick, his cousin. Wearing the bronze breastplate, in the silver and blue uniform that marked the King's Army apart from the Russian soldiers, he looked dashing.

And terrifying.

"Indeed," Sir Cyath answered, gravely. "And his companion," he motioned to Peter, who was trying his best to hold his head high. In all truth, it was all he could do not to cower away.

When the King's Army recognized who he was, they drew back a pace, showing the same uncertainty and reverence that Sir Cyath had earlier.

Peter, who had always been sensitive to being treated differently, picked up on it and he knew instantly that his plan would work. He turned his head to check on Sirius, who was clenching his teeth so hard that the muscle in his cheek was twitching. The elder boy was staring straight ahead, his wary eyes never leaving the party of soldiers.

His attention was caught by a voice demanding, "Have you found him, then? _This _is the Prince?"

Peter didn't know if he should feel insulted at the disdain in the tone. He swallowed again and looked up to see a man, scowling. The way he held himself and was dressed differently from the other Russian soldiers, he knew that this man was their commander. Panic threatened to rule him, as he remembered Ivan's face vividly in his mind's eye. Granted, the man hadn't actually been able to do anything to him, but James' wounds had told a story all of their own of the cruelties that such men were able to inflict. The first and only time Peter had ever seen Ivan's face, had been when his body had been removed from the Drawing Room, limp and broken, his features frozen in the contorted surprise of his death.

This commander, however, did not look anything like Ivan. His face was doughy, like a potter's masterpiece gone wrong, left to melt in the corner and baked mistakenly. He had a double chin, and eyes like dark rhinestones. There was not a part of his face that would ever be considered handsome, Peter supposed. _Frightening _was the only word to describe it.

Toma had used a good strategy of having this man as one of his leaders.

Tearing his gaze from the menacing creature, he caught sight of another familiar face, who was staring at him from under another soldier's arm.

Seth.

Peter quickly glanced down at his feet, not wanting to see the awe cross his friend's features. For some reason, that, above everything else, was what bothered him the most.

He flinched when the commander leaned over him to get a better look. "You don't look like a Prince," he declared. "You don't smell like one either!"

At that, the Russian soldiers burst into rounds of laughter.

Peter finally raised his eyes. "I pity you," he said, and though he had spoken quietly, his voice carried across the gardens. "You must win people's hearts through brute force."

"Save me your eloquent speeches," the commander spat, snidely. To Sir Cyath, he said, "Toma will be pleased! You've done well, Cyath."

"I did not do it for Toma's sake," Cyath said, in disgust.

"Ah, for the sake of your _King_," the commander said mockingly.

Peter spoke up then, angered at the way the commander held no respect for the Royal House. "No. He did this for _my_ sake."

Narrowing his eyes, the commander repeated, "Your sake?"

"That is correct, sir," Peter said, haughtily. "As my father is not here at the present moment, it is I who have command." Looking straight at Cyath, he ordered, "Apprehend him and untie me at once!"

"Yes, Your Highness!" Sir Cyath's gun was out and up to the commander's head in a blink of an eye. All the Russian soldiers drew in a breath, their surprise at having the tables turned so suddenly catching them off guard. Their hands flew to their own guns, but the King's Army had followed their leader's move by having theirs drawn first.

For a terrifying minute, Peter was certain there was going to be a bloodbath, but then, everyone froze when Cyath warned, "No one move!" To the commander, he said, "I have not been very tolerant of the actions that Toma has taken against our people. You'll find that I am not so forgiving, Durke." Without taking his eyes or his gun away from the man's head, he barked, "Take their weapons from them. And someone see to the Prince and Sir Sirius!"

While the guns were collected from the Russians, Sir Rick bent to untie the boys. When they were free at last, Sirius turned to face Peter, angrily, while rubbing at his wrists. "You are never going to talk me into something this foolish ever again!" he hissed.

Peter raised both hands as if to pacify his friend. "I told you it would work – all Sir Cyath needed was a distraction." To add to their ruse, he had insisted that they be tied up: he had counted on the fact that the soldiers would relax their guard after seeing that their prey had been captured.  
"And if it didn't work?" Sirius demanded, heatedly. "We would have been completely surrounded and defenseless!"

"Then I would have tried my best," Peter told him, in a pleading way.

Sirius clucked his tongue. "I still can't believe I agreed to it. Sometimes you can be a little outrageous, Peter."

Peter flashed him an innocent grin, which caused him to get a hair-ruffling. When they cared to look, the King's Army had tied and gagged every Russian soldier, and made them huddle in a group on the cold concrete ground. They watched as their guns and supplies were taken away, before Sir Cyath thought to debrief them.

"Toma wants to conquer other nations for one sole purpose: to take over Russia."

"What? But that's his own country!" cried Peter.

Sir Cyath shook his head. "The man is twisted in every way imaginable, your Highness. I will not even begin to try and understand his mind."

Peter glanced at the soldiers, uncomfortably. That they could serve such a twisted man was dreadfully terrifying. How could anyone be so disloyal? It frightened him to know that within his own country, there were traitors. Who was he to judge when England was no better? He felt Sirius' hand on his shoulder, a gesture that he took comfort in.  
"Your Highness, what do we do with him?" the group turned to see Durke, on his knees between two soldiers, his face twisted in contempt. Peter was reminded of the times when he and James had had serious conversations about politics and wielding justice. Back then, his answers had come easily, the command without hesitation, and yet now, when faced with the decision, he cowered away from it.

As if sensing his apprehension, Sirius announced, "Don't forget, Peter, we have other business to attend to."

Gratefully, Peter gave Sirius a relieved look before telling Sir Cyath, "I'll leave the fate of these men to you. Whatever you decide to do with them will only anger Toma in a move against the King." He paused, taking a moment to resign himself to his decision – a decision that had to be made by him and no one else. "Sacrifices are inevitable," he said, at last, trying to sound bold and firm. Inside, he felt sick to the stomach.

Sir Cyath bowed, accepting the responsibility. "I would that it were not so, but you speak wisely, my lord." He glanced at Durke, thoughtfully as he spoke. "While I wish we could go with you, it's best that we don't draw any attention to ourselves. We'll let Toma sit in the dark and wonder what has become of this troop. We will delay your escape for as long as possible, and hold our ground here. You will be safer if you are less conspicuous. As for what will happen to Toma's men, I would rather you not see or know.

"Take two of our horses, if you will: they will not hold their former masters again. All of them ride with good speed, and are sturdy and strong." Lowering his voice, he told them, "When you reach the Academy and evacuate, make straight for the hills. Toma has no intention of spreading his men there as yet, so it is the safest. Wait until I send word to you, after which, you are to take the trails to my Hold. Sir Remus can take care of the rest when you get there."

Peter said, "You have my thanks, Sir Cyath. I will wait for your signal."

"Sir Sirius, take care of him," the commander bid. He looked about to say more, but Rick interrupted them.

"My lord, I beg to go with," he said, pulling off his helmet and addressing Peter. "It doesn't bide well with me to leave you so ill unprotected. I know Sir Sirius has been adequate thus far," he added, "but I believe the task is grueling for one person alone. Let me be another pair of eyes, another shield, another sword. I know the maps and the routes of those places that are being heavily guarded – I can help you."

Peter faced the elder man. "If your commander will allow you, I will gladly accept, Sir Rick."

Sir Cyath assented, immediately. "Take provisions, with you. It will be a long and tiring journey."

Peter clasped hands with the commander who bade them farewell. As they turned to leave, he caught sight of Seth, who now stood under the shadows of a tree, watching the exchange. Under the watchful (and disapproving) gaze of Sirius, Peter strode over to him.

Uncomfortably, Seth lowered his gaze to the floor and scuffed his shoe. "So… you're the Prince, huh?"

Peter winced. "Seth, I didn't mean to lie to you…"

"Of course you didn't," the boy said, trying to retreat a step back, but failing because the tree blocked his way. "You didn't want your identity to be known, right? Was it because you were afraid I'd treat you differently, or because there were soldiers looking for you?"

Biting back heated words of protest that ran along the lines that it was none of his business, Peter answered, "It was for both reasons. But more because I wanted to protect you from any tortures – the less you knew, the safer you were."

Seth cocked his head to the side, bringing his purple eyes up to meet Peter's; his gaze accusing. "You thought I was a spy, when we first met, didn't you?"

Not knowing what else to say, Peter truthfully answered, "Yes."

He expected Seth to be hurt by that, but instead, the boy inclined his head, returning his gaze to the floor and shoving his hands into his breeches' pockets.

"You have my apologies, Seth."

"Don't apologize Lateo – your…your Highness. I guess I would be cautious, too, if I were you. I can understand why your friend didn't like me. Or why you didn't, for that matter."

"For my friend, I will not apologize, but on my behalf I will," Peter said. "It's true I that at first I thought you to be a spy. I'm sorry that I did not think better of you. Indeed, you were good to me and for your friendship, I am grateful." Here, he shyly held out a hand, and in surprise, Seth blinked at him. "I wish to remain friends, if you would."

"But I'm a commoner…"

The younger boy smiled. "No, you are Seth. And I am Peter."

Seth slowly grasped his hand and shook it, firmly. "It's nice to know you…Peter."

Withdrawing, Peter waved and turned his heel, hurrying toward the waiting horses that Sir Rick had chosen.

The man saddled them and loaded their provisions onto them with quick expertise. "Thuagor and Jerohim will serve you well," he promised.

Sirius helped hoist Peter up onto the latter, a white horse, and made sure that the stirrups were adjusted, accordingly, before climbing atop the other steed. Thuagor snorted and danced under him, uneasy with its unfamiliar rider, and he leaned down to pat his neck, reassuringly. Sir Rick joined them a few moments later, straddling Malony, the horse that he had favored since its days as a filly.

With a final salute, the small party urged their horses away, into the forest, following the path that Sirius had originally intended. They picked their way nimbly into the green enclosure, and once surrounded by the glade of trees, the three rested easier in their saddles.

Sirius let Sir Rick take up the lead, falling back so that he could stay beside Peter, who stared straight ahead, pensively.

After riding a little way, the three stopped short when sudden, thundering sounds filled the air, so loudly that they had to cover their ears. The horses neighed angrily, and overhead, the birds flew from their perches in the trees, squawking and chattering, terrified.

Distantly, shouts could be heard, and as if to shield them from the reality of what had happened, Rick pulled Malony around, kicking her into a trot. Eagerly, the Thuagor and Jerohim followed, their riders having no choice but to focus on the path ahead of them.

Leaning low over his horse, Sirius turned his head sideways to assess his friend's tear-stained face. "Peter…you know you've just forfeited your father's life, right?"

The Prince closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I know."

**To Be Continued…

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**

AN: I am a day late in posting and I apologize for that. My internet really has the best timing in the world when it comes to crashing. Anyway, that aside, I really enjoy reading feedback/comments/reviews. Send them my way and if inspiration hits me, I'll write all the faster. In any case, I look forward to hearing what everyone thought about this latest installment. Have a Happy New Year! See you in 2010!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	18. Leading

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

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_

**AN:** Can you believe I'm updating already? The first chapter of the New Year, and we are two weeks in. I hope you all had a good one. Thank you for all your awesome reviews and PMs.

Onward.

* * *

_Previously: _

_After riding a little way, the three riders stopped short when sudden, thundering sounds filled the air, so loudly that they had to cover their ears. The horses neighed angrily, and overhead, the birds flew from their perches in the trees, squawking and chattering, terrified._

_Distantly, shouts could be heard, and as if to shield them from the reality of what had happened, Rick pulled Malony around, kicking her into a trot. Eagerly, Thuagor and Jerohim followed, their riders having no choice but to focus on the path ahead of them._

_Leaning low over his horse, Sirius turned his head sideways to assess his friend's tear-stained face. "Peter…you know you've just forfeited your father's life, right?"_

_The Prince closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I know."

* * *

_

**Chapter 18**

**- Leading -**

In the early, early hours of the morning, one could not expect to see much within the chamber. The natural skylight overhead provided such little illumination that James was obliged to turn on his flashlight.

He had not been to this chamber for what felt like ages, and the large room stared back at him, in an almost doleful manner. There was a rancid smell that, although prominent, did not quite make him gag. At first, he thought it was caused by a dead animal, but he recognized the smell of rotting food. Wrinkling his nose, he shone the light toward the walls, his footsteps echoing on the smooth stone.

The room, which had probably been planned to serve as the Throne Room in the Academy's earlier days, was vast. The walls towered above him and he felt a twinge of fear. It would take him days – weeks - to find what he was looking for. _If_ what he was looking for was there, at all…

_Only the cracks in the walls know the secrets over the generations in time…_

That's what Master Dumbledore had once told them. The last time he had seen the Headmaster had been here, within the Chamber of Secrets, half a year ago.

If his assumptions were correct, the Master had been trying to tell him something.

"He must have buried whatever he was guarding somewhere within this chamber," James said, aloud, his voice bouncing back to him from all corners of the room. He was certain that the Master had hidden the Treaty there. "Merlin, but there are so many cracks in the walls, it could be anywhere!"

He wished that Sirius and Peter were with him, because the former was an agile climber, and the latter had fingers small enough to poke through those cracks. But they were not there, and so, James resigned himself to doing the task alone.

Passing the flashlight over the stones, he hurriedly thought. Master Dumbledore was an old man. For him to climb to the top of the Chamber's walls would have been impossible, so James ruled out the stones that lined the topmost partition. He also would not have been able to lift any heavy stones, so he ruled out the thought that the Master had buried anything beneath the slabs of the floor. That left the smaller stones of the wall, closer to the floor and platform.

Even then, there were too many places to look.

With a sigh, James ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think back on the last words Dumbledore had spoken to them, but he couldn't for the life of him, make out anything of importance other than the fact that nothing ever came easily.

Ironically, those words could not ring truer.

Picking his way toward the wall, James scanned the stones, running his hands over them.

The King's Army within the Academy had not been happy about his proposal to go to war, but for the most part, they had agreed with him. Toma's treachery had to stop. If, for some reason, the Army decided to change their minds again, James was relieved to know that the other students had made it out to safety. All that was left was a handful of men, who were determined to stand their ground.

In order to do so, however, James still needed to get the Treaty. Another use for it had come to mind, but that would not be possible unless they freed the King. How they were going to do that, was beyond him.

If it came down to a war, the King would surely die.

Pushing the depressing thoughts aside, he bent over to inspect the stones. The Treaty would be no small thing. If Dumbledore meant to hide it, it would be…

"Of course!" he cried aloud, remembering that the Headmaster had sat down on one of the benches in the room. Perhaps it had been a deliberate action…an indication of where he had intended to place it. Hurrying over, the light bobbing in his excitement, James fell to his knees by the stone bench, looking over and under it, thoroughly. He could find nothing, though and with a sigh, he sat back on his haunches.

Perhaps he had assumed wrong…

Glumly, he passed the flashlight back and forth between his hands as he tried to think. His eye caught sight of something, though, and curiously, he bent forward to see it. There, scratched into the floor beneath the bench, was a tiny arrow. The mark must have been made by using a stone to grate, because the arrow had been clumsily drawn and was barely visible.

Sucking in a gasp, James followed the arrow's direction to a stone in the wall, which, upon first glance, did not seem any different from the others. However, when he reached down to pry it loose, he was surprised to see that it was light and smooth, in the form of a box. The makeshift stone was actually made of glass – the same glass that usually nestled the Elites' pendants when first awarded to them.

Inside, was the King's Treaty, and a rather long note. Slanting writing that James instantly recognized as Dumbledore's, lined the page.

_Sir James,_

_ I had no doubts that you would find this box. You are, and always have been, much too observant for your own good. When you read this letter, I will have already taken Sir Aesalon's place as captive to the Russian Army. They seek to get rid of everyone in power. They have succeeded in disbanding the Philologi, and in capturing our National Defense Minister as well as our Minister for Foreign Affairs. _

_ I refuse to allow these men to use my students against me. In my stead, I have asked Lewis Edmund to take over the role of Headmaster. For my sudden disappearance, you have my apologies._

_ Time is short. _

_ I leave the King's Treaty in your hands. While I am gone, I beg you to guard it with your life. The Russian Army will surely demand for it, sooner or later. I must place a burden on your shoulders once again. Know now that I do so only in hopes of safeguarding so precious an item. Another must know of its existence should the case be that I am slain. _

_ Of this, there is a very likely chance. I can trust no one but you. Consider it the wish of a dying man: think of me as thus, and do not try to follow me, for I walk into enemy territory. With all the things that are going on now, stay in the safety of the Academy. _

_ I regret that I was unable to say my farewells in person, or to let you know of this burden beforehand. If the good Lord wills it, we shall meet again, and at the time, should it ever come to pass, I shall crave your pardon. _

_ H.W Academy must hold and England must not fall. May His Majesty live long and prosper. _

_In the service,_

_ Albus Dumbledore_

James slowly folded the paper again. Dumbledore…dead? He had never once let the thought cross his mind. Now that it did, he could feel despair fall over him like a thick and heavy blanket.

Dumbledore was a very powerful man, trusted highly by the King and all the Noble Houses. His service to the Crown was longer than anybody could remember, and he presided over the Academy in such a way that people had come to revere him almost as much as the King himself.

Perhaps it had been in the way he had managed to keep order within the school walls, or the way many of his students had become so successful. But above all, it was his humbleness that moved James to hail him as his Master.

There was no way Dumbledore was dead.

Sick at heart, James pushed himself to his feet, tucking both letter and Treaty into his coat. It had been more than 6 months already since he had last seen the man, but he refused to give up hope. The thought that the Master had chosen to hand himself over into enemy territory made that hope glow dim.

One thing was for certain, though.

He would not leave H.W. Academy without a fight. Dumbledore was right – it had to hold. If the Palace was under attack, this was the only other place that could provide security.

Hurriedly, he picked up his flashlight, trying to sort out the thoughts in his head. With so few within the walls to protect it, he feared that the Academy, so rich and full of memories of the past, would soon become part of those very pages of history.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"Come on, keep up!" Sir Lucius called. "I know you're weary, but the rendez-vous point is just ahead. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can rest."

Obediently, the students pushed ahead, picking up their paces which had begun to lag. The children were just about dead on their feet, and everyone else's strength had been sapped by their fears and uncertainties.

Remus checked his map again in the dim lighting of the sewer system's cavern. So far, they had made good time and had covered a lot of ground. He hadn't expected to get that far, actually, with all the wagons and burdens that they had brought along. It had been a good three hours walk so he could understand the complaints of his company.

Beside him, Nymphadora stumbled and instinctively, he reached out to steady her. "My Lady?"

"I feel unwell," Nymphadora told him. "I'm very tired…"

He put his arm around her waist to give her some support. "You must be patient for just a little longer," he told her, apologetically. "We are almost there."

Resigned, she nodded, trying to match his pace but failing because he had longer legs than she. She was glad for his support because she wasn't sure she could keep up otherwise: a queasy feeling had started to build in the pit of her stomach. The smell of the sewers wasn't helping her at all.

When she could absolutely not bear it any longer, she pushed away from Remus and staggered to the side to throw up. He was by her in an instant, bending down to rub her back, helplessly until she was finished. In a little while, Madam Pomfrey was also there to offer her aid.

Sir Lucius called, "What's going on, over there? Sir Remus? Is there something the matter?"

While at the same time, Sir Dane demanded, "Has someone been injured?"

Remus came to his feet, dusting his breeches off, quickly. "No injuries," he hurriedly called back. To Madam Pomfrey he asked, "Is it a malady? She has been like this for the last week or so, apparently."

Keeping her voice down, Madam Pomfrey simply said, "It is a natural process that almost all pregnant women experience." She gave him a disapproving frown, both because she was not happy about the fact that the girl was pregnant in the first place, and because she did not like having a woman in such a fragile state doing anything strenuous. "What she needs is rest. If complications arise, it is possible for her to lose the child."

Hearing that, Nymphadora gave a little cry, wrapping her arms around her stomach in a protective fashion.

Remus glanced behind him at the rest of the women and children. A few of the children were being carried by the men on their backs, there being no more room on the wagons that they had brought along.

Madam Pomfrey had her chew something she claimed would help her to quell some of the nausea before turning to Remus. "How much longer do we travel?"

"No more than an hour," he said. "As much as I would like to call a halt, it is unsafe to rest in the open like this. We must get to the shelter that we've secured." He helped his Lady to her feet. "If I must, I will carry you," he offered, but Nymphadora shook her head and insisted that she could walk on her own.

This time, as they set out, their progress was slower, because the path that they had chosen to navigate was narrow and more dangerous. The concrete flooring was slippery and cracked, making the maneuvering of the carts difficult.

Everyone began to get restless, and Sir Lucius burned with impatience. "It is just like the Marauders to choose such a path," he sneered, as he stepped lightly around a fallen boulder.

Remus rose to his bait. "It was the most that could be done what with so short amount of time given to us. We are lucky as it is that we were able to find this escape route."

"We are all of us groping in the dark," Lucius continued, as though ignoring Remus' irritated remark. "How do we know that you are certain of the path and aren't just leading us around, blindly?"

"I would fancy seeing _you_ make better progress," Remus said, hotly.

Lucius waved his hand, dismissively. "At least I would not do so in a blundering sort of fashion. It seems that Gryffindors have no sense of direction."

"And you would expect me to believe that Slytherins do? I'd rather turn back and have myself arrested by the King's Army than follow you and your lot anywhere!"

"Gentlemen, let's not have any of this," Amos interrupted them, in a jovial manner. The man's sudden presence made the both of them jump. In the dim lighting of the sewers, it was easy to identify him. He wore the colors of the House of Hufflepuff as proudly as he had when he had once been an Elite. Dropping his voice, but keeping it amiable, Amos prodded, "It won't do to have the Ladies see such conduct from their leaders, will it? Create a tab if you will, of your grievances and duke it out somewhere else when the time comes. However, shall we agree on travelling in good humor from here on in?"

Lucius bared his teeth, but Remus nodded and held out a hand; the gentleman-like fashion of a truce that he had been brought up to observe.

For a moment, Lucius looked like he would snub the invitation, but at Amos' urging, he grudgingly took it up and shook it firmly.

Without letting go, Remus said, "By all means sir, if you know a better way to get us there, do lead the way," innocently. He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face when Lucius' glared at him.

"I should not want to take the honor," the Slytherin Elite said, through clenched teeth.

"Then we will have no further complaints?" It was more of a statement than a question on Remus' part, and he watched, satisfied, as Lucius jerked his head once.

"No further complaints."

Finally, Remus released his hand and watched as the other man stomped away. Then, he turned to Amos. "My thanks to you, sir. Normally, I would not be so hostile, but with Sir Lucius, one's disposition can seriously be tried."

Amos chuckled, knowingly. "It's best not to show any antagonistic temperament to his likes," he advised. "He does like to flaunt it as much as possible in front of you in hopes to get you all the more aggravated. And more often than not, it works."

At this, Remus hunched his shoulders in shame. Sir Amos clapped him on the back good-naturedly. Of course he would know – he had worked alongside Lucius before being stripped of his title. When Remus pointed this out to him, Amos said, "Ah, but I do not regret losing my title. Indeed, it was a heavy burden to bear. Now, it seems all the more so." And with that, he nodded toward Sir Dane and Lady Lily, who had gathered a group around them for their quarterly report.

"Nor do I envy them," Remus agreed.

"The Lady Lily seems to be handling it quite well."

"I don't think gender has anything to do with it," Remus told him, stoutly, getting his hint.

This time, it was Amos who looked down in shame. "Ah, well…most Ladies would have folded by now, I believe. You know how the women of the Academy are. Fragile like glass, the lot of them."

He did have a point.

Most of the Academy women were known to burst into tears upon pricking their fingers on their embroidery needles. "I see what you mean," he had to agree. "I think it's wonderful that the Lady Lily was able to become an Elite. It gives the women courage and something to try to live up to."

"If you say so, my friend. Our women have a long ways to go, as yet."

Remus shrugged and bent to help his Lady, who had been listening to their conversation the whole time without making a comment. She climbed to her feet, disappointment that her small reprieve was over clearly visible on her heart-shaped features. In a single, swift movement, he pulled her close and brushed his lips across her brow. "I'll take my Lady as is, thank you very much," he announced, and that gained him an appreciative smile from her as well as a few chuckles from surrounding men who had been watching the exchange without Remus' knowledge.

Clearing his throat, embarrassed, Remus firmly said, "If memory serves me well, our resting place is just beyond that bend there."

Word of this news travelled down the lines fast enough, and all the men and women redoubled their efforts of crossing the narrow way.

Remus had no doubts that his argument with Lucius would travel just as fast, and he was correct because by the time they reached the rendez-vous point, most students from the House of Slytherin were darting him disgusted looks. He was certain that if he had had Lucius' rank, they would not dare to do so. He resigned himself to returning a casual, blank expression as he ushered them into a rather large room.

It had been James who had discovered this room. Hidden well, it looked to be a place used to store electrical equipment. Bits and pieces of cables and pulleys still littered the ground. There were large scraps of metal down there too, as well as a few tools. When they had first discovered the room, the two of them had not had the time to clear all the clutter away.

Now, everyone grimly got to work, pushing things to the side carefully, making sure that the children did not try to touch anything. All in all, the room was big enough to bed the large group, even though it was a rather tight squeeze. It would be impossible to fit the second group in, but Remus figured that he'd worry about that when the time came.

The Professors were quick in arranging rows and makeshift beds. A few women shared their blankets with each other, because despite the fact that it was Spring time, it was bitingly cold underground. Overhead, small circlets of light shone, allowing for everyone to be able to see what they were doing. There was even a ladder that ran along the length of one wall toward a small opening in the ceiling.

A passageway to the streets above.

Remus eyed it as the three Elites he was travelling with came forward to have a brief meeting. Sir Dane still looked fresh and ready for action compared to Lily, who looked frazzled and tired. She was absently rubbing at her shoulder as they walked toward him, together. Lucius did not bother to hide his sneer as he joined the gathering.

"…a quick headcount. Afterwards, we should pass out some rations," Dane was saying to Lily. "Then, everyone should get as much sleep as possible."

"I've spoken with several of the Professors," Lily told him. "They've agreed to take charge of one specific group each."

Dane nodded. "Well thought. I will have words with Sirs Lorien and Severus about grouping the men under the same rules when they catch up with us."

Lucius looked toward the metal doorways that they had had to squeeze through. The wagons had been left outside because they were too big. "I'll split the men we currently have into watches. We dare not leave our supplies unguarded."

"That sounds reasonable, too," Dane said. "Create the groups as you see fit, then, Sir Lucius. I'll take care of passing out supplies. Lady Lily, I will leave the lists of groups in your care, then. We'll hold another meeting within the hour." Before they could turn to do as they had agreed, he turned to Remus. "Our thanks to you, sir, for your excellent skills in guiding us."

Remus merely gave him a small bow in response, pretending that he didn't see Dane's pointed look in Lucius' direction.

"You will not join the watches tonight," Dane continued. Remus began to protest, but the Elite firmly said, "We will need you to have every ounce of your strength to guide us again on the morrow."

"Where exactly are we headed?" Lily asked.

"I had hoped to go to my Hold," Remus said. "But we've no idea if that too has been taken over. My father, after all, is the Army's Commander. But if I know Sir Cyath well, he would never betray His Majesty.

"We will try to make our way as close as possible to my Hold. If something is amiss, I'm afraid we'll have to stay hidden in the sewers until we can think of somewhere else."

Lucius snorted. "How comforting to know that we've no set plan."

"It is plan enough," Dane cut in, before another argument could take place, and Remus was very glad he did because he had been on the verge of biting the bait yet again. "Perhaps there will be no need to go that far – if Sir James' suspicions on the King's Army back at the Academy are mistaken, then we can always return there. For the time being, let's take things as they come. And," he added, "let's do so with as much decorum as possible."

His tone left no room for argument.

As soon as everyone left to do their duties, Remus looked at the compass in his hands.

_A smart man always knows where he's going._

That's what his father always used to say.

The tiny needle pointed North East. With a sigh, he pocketed the device and made his way to his Lady's side, who was sitting up in her makeshift bed, rearranging her things so that they lay in a bundle on her lap. "Remus?"

"Are you comfortable?"

"As comfortable as I can get," she answered. "You look so tired. Where have you let out your roll?"

He shook his head. "I haven't. I am not sleeping tonight, my Lady."

"But…"

He glanced over his shoulder at Dane, who was speaking with a few professors and men. Remus lowered his voice. "I have gone many sleepless nights in the past before. I've enough energy to do one last thing." As he spoke, he tucked Nymphadora securely under her blankets, and she blinked up at him, worriedly.

"What are you going to do?"

"I will retrace our steps and find the second group," Remus answered. "If they've left on time, they should be no more than an hour's walk away." When she grabbed his hand, he pat hers reassuringly. "I'll be just fine, my dear. It's not for me you should be worried – it's for the second group. After all, James will not be the one guiding them. Sir Severus has taken on that responsibility, with the help of one of our maps."

"Then they should be just fine," Nymphadora said, not quite relenting her grip on his hand.

At this, Remus laughed. "I should not dare to hope. He is, after all, one from the House of Slytherin and you know that I trust them only about as far as I can throw them – and that's not very far at all."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Instinctively, Sirius reined in his horse, and Thuagor tossed his mane unhappily. Malony took the sudden stop much better, swiveling immediately, even before her rider could order her to. Behind them, Jerohim clacked his teeth in what seemed like a question.

"It's time to rest," Sirius explained to Rick. "Peter's too tired to continue."

And it was true, because Jerohim's rider was slumped in his saddle, his face almost pressed against his horse's neck.

The boy did not argue when Sirius announced that they would set up camp. Instead, he let Rick take most of his weight when the man came over to help him down. His legs felt hollow and his back hurt something fierce. It was to be expected though, because the last time he had ridden a horse had been so long ago.

Seeming to sense this, Sirius said, "Peter, sit down and rest. You don't look well at all."

But Peter shoved the weary feeling away and said, "No, I just need to stretch. Let me help."

"Are you sure, Your Highness?" Rick asked. "You look dreadful."

"I'm sure," Peter insisted. For a moment, he feared Sirius would not let him, but his friend finally said, "Very well. You can help gather firewood. If you wish to relieve yourself, now is the time to do so. But mind that you don't wander far."

Peter nodded and waddled away, keeping his eyes on the floor for any dry sticks that they could use for timber.

When he was far enough, Sir Rick turned to his cousin. "You treat the Prince as though he were a child."

"He _is_ a child, sir," Sirius said, circling the clearing for a good spot in which to hollow out the ground. "I've been friends with him long enough to know that putting on grand airs in front of him only makes him feel awkward. Smothering him doesn't make him happy, either. A little exercise never hurt a body," he added, because he knew that Rick was going to scold him for making Peter help set up.

"Yes, it seems you do know him well," Rick mused. "I would not have known that His Highness was unable to continue."

Finally finding a place, Sirius began the work of hollowing out a shallow pit. Afterwards, he found stones with which to line the circle. He wasn't too concerned about keeping the fire contained, because the ground was still wet from the winter weather. Still, it didn't hurt to be cautious – it wouldn't do to set the forest on fire.

Sir Rick made himself useful by pulling supplies down from the horses and bringing them over to the circle. "Is a campfire really necessary? It may alert our enemies…"

Sirius looked at him helplessly. "It's a risk we'll have to take. The nights are cold, sir. Peter must stay warm. If you have a better idea…"

"I would suggest building a lean-to, but it's not as good as a fire," Sir Rick said, shaking his head. "At least there doesn't seem to be any sign of rain. We shall stay dry this night."

They helped each other tether the horses and unroll sleeping bags. While Rick went to get some water from the river that they had been following, Sirius went about looking for some firewood as well. Between what him and Peter collected, there was enough for a decent flame.

The three of them began to cook a meal of meat and potatoes, roasted on little sticks that Rick provided. A delicious aroma soon filled the air.

Peter leaned himself comfortably against the base of a tree, watching the flames as they crackled and leaped. He jumped slightly when Jerohim, tethered close by, bent down and nuzzled him, in hopes for a morsel of food.

Laughing, Sir Rick pulled an apple out of one of his sacks and tossed it over to him. Peter caught it and proceeded to feed it to his horse, reaching up and stroking the horse's powerful jaws as it chewed its prize. "You are a handsome one, aren't you?" he asked, fondly. "I haven't seen many white horses. I do believe the Optivus are the only ones who usually ride them."

"Some of the Units do, too," Sir Rick said, tossing another stick into the flames, which showed their appreciation for the addition by waving their thanks. "But for the most part, and they're hard to breed. It is said that white horses choose their riders, not the other way around. Black beauties aren't as rare, but are much harder to tame."

Jerohim finished off the apple, core included, and tried to cajole more from Peter but with no success. "Oh, away with you, you brute," Peter laughed, waving him away.

"I've oats for him later, but your meal comes first," Rick told him.

Sirius washed his hands using the water that had been gathered in his flask, and Peter followed his example saying, "I smell of dirt, garbage and horse. Whatever would my father think?"

"The same thing as mine, most likely," Sirius said, with a wry grin. He was glad to see that Peter's spirits were high and that a healthy tinge of pink was back on his friend's cheeks.

_You treat the Prince as though he were a child._

Guiltily, Sirius remembered how he had lost his temper with the boy. "Listen, Peter…about earlier…I should not have acted that way. It was ill-suited for my station and I had no right."

Peter wrung his hands out. "What?"

"You remember. Whoever you wish to make acquaintances with is none of my business. Wherever you wish to go, I will follow. You have my apologies if I seemed to be too commandeering. Of course my lord's will should come above all else."

At that, Peter's face clouded. "Sirius, why are you being so formal?"

"I overstepped my boundaries."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I still feel terrible."

The younger boy shrugged. "All is forgiven. It was I who was really at fault. I should not have frightened you like that. I will do my best to watch my own actions with the knowledge that they will most likely affect other people as well."

Sirius punched him lightly in the arm. "Wow, Peter, I think you're growing up!"

Peter laughed aloud, the sound ringing through the small campsite. "I should duel you for that, sir!"

"Now, now," Sir Rick called, "no dueling around the fire, please." He, too, was smiling, having overheard their conversation. "At least, no dueling until you've eaten." He began to pass out the food, saying, "Careful now. It's still hot."

The food was delicious, a welcome change from the hospital's strict and rather tasteless diet. Around a mouthful of his meat, Peter excitedly said, "It's my first time to sleep under the stars! I think I should not want to close my eyes!"

"You'll close your eyes," Sirius promised him, for despite the lad's lively attitude, he looked very weary. His medication would most probably knock him out at this rate.

"It's different than seeing them from a telescope," Peter told them. "I should like to stay awake long enough to try and count them all."

"That would be impossible," Sir Rick said.

"Not impossible," countered Peter. "Merely unfinished."

Rick tilted his head up so that he could see the night sky. "My lord, how would one be able to tell where one last left off?" And it was here that Sirius shot his cousin a look that beseeched him not to contradict the boy.

But Peter did not seem put off at all. "I will find a way. In the meantime, I am glad to breathe fresh air and eat real food. It makes me feel free."

In answer, an owl hooted in the distance, and a triumphant smile stretched itself across Peter's face. Sir Rick missed it though, because he had bent over to rearrange a few strips of meat by the fire. "Sleeping outdoors on the ground is not suited for you, Your Highness," he said, aghast. "If your Lord Father heard of this…"

"He'd be furious," giggled Peter. He craned his neck upward to the endless stretch of sky and the diamonds it seemed to hold in its fist. He stopped laughing after a while, remembering that his decision to fight back had deliberately forsaken his father's life. The smile slowly fell off his face and a feeling of sadness enveloped him.

"Peter?" Sirius asked, so anxiously that Rick looked up at them.

"I…I miss my father," Peter said. "Do you think…"

Rick interrupted him, quickly. "My lord, would you like some more?"

Blinking, Peter stared at the outstretched stick that was being offered to him. Without another word, he took the food and began to eat it, slowly. Both Sirius and Rick exchanged worried glances, and in an effort to cheer him up and change the subject, Rick asked, "Are the Academy's rules against dueling still in play?"

"They are as strict as ever," Sirius responded, eagerly latching onto the new topic.

"If my riding skills have rusted over the years, I fear to think about my swordplay," Peter mused, choosing to abandon his darker thoughts for this lighter subject matter.

"In that case, I think a warm up in both can be arranged," Rick said. "We will start slowly, of course. But it's best if you remember these skills for the upcoming battle ahead. We shan't want to have you defenseless, after all."

Peter finished off his meat and flourished the stick. "Will you teach me?"

Rick seemed to relax a little. "Of course. I'll try my best."

The rest of the meal went by without much more conversation, because Peter became too tired to do so. Halfway through his third stick of meat and potatoes, his eyelids grew heavy and his head began to nod. When Sirius suggested turning in for the night, he readily agreed.

Head spinning, Peter allowed the two men to help him get comfortable. The adrenaline from earlier had gone, leaving him feeling as though he were sapped of all energy. After a while, he could not even make out their conversation, tired as he was.

Rick had come prepared with thick fur blankets which Sirius promptly began to tuck around the boy who watched the night sky, blearily. The stars above were starting to blur with each other. When he tried to tell Sirius how frustrated he was, he found he could not string the words together properly.

Patiently, Sirius piled another blanket on top of him. "Don't worry, my lord," he soothed. "The stars can wait until our next night."

Despite the hard ground and the uncomfortable bulk and straps of his jacket, Peter fell asleep almost instantly.

He did not even stir when his companions let out surprised cries and drew their swords as a horse and rider galloped into their midst.

**To Be Continued…

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**

**AN:** May 2010 bring only inspiration. In so saying, would you be so kind as to leave me a review? They really help in that department and I enjoy reading them so much. Sometimes, when I feel like I don't want to write any more, or if I am at a loss at how to continue, I just go back to my review section and read them all over again and they pick me up significantly. So, do help me out in that respect and leave me a thought or two – a line or two – before you exit this window.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	19. Uncertainties

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim though.

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_

**AN: ** Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews and PMs. It's hard to be inspired, let alone write, when you're in pain. That's all I have to say.

Onward.

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_Previously: _

_Rick had come prepared with thick fur blankets which Sirius promptly began to tuck around Peter, who watched the night sky, blearily. The stars above were starting to blur with each other. When he tried to tell Sirius how frustrated he was, he found he could not string the words together properly._

_Patiently, Sirius piled another blanket on top of him. "Don't worry, my lord," he soothed. "The stars can wait until our next night."_

_Despite the hard ground and the uncomfortable bulk and straps of his jacket, Peter fell asleep almost instantly._

_He did not even stir when his companions let out surprised cries and drew their swords as a horse and rider galloped into their midst.

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_

**Chapter 19**

**- Uncertainties -**

The horse reared, throwing its rider to the ground in a disgraceful heap. After which, it trampled the earth beneath its hooves, its dark eyes darting every which way, as if looking for an escape route.

"Sir Rick - Peter!" Sirius commanded.

Rick automatically flung himself between the wild horse and the young Prince, who was still fast asleep. Throwing his sword aside, he reached out to grip the reins to the angry horse, who nearly tossed him into the nearby bushes. Neighing angrily, the animal backed up, trying to get loose, but Rick hung onto the reins firmly.

As a squire, he had had his fair share of bruises from such horses that he knew how to handle them well.

While he battled with the animal, Sirius hurried over to the figure of the rider that began to stir as the cloud of dust that he had sent up upon his fall, began to settle. When the person made to sit up, coughing, Sirius pinned him back down with the tip of his sword.

"Wait, wait! Please, don't hurt me!"

That voice…

The name was out of his mouth before Sirius' surprise could catch up with him. "Seth?!"

Sure enough, Seth's purple eyes met his, pleadingly from under the hood of his outfit.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius demanded, not trusting the boy enough to ease up on his weapon. In fact, he found himself pressing against it more forcefully. "Did you follow us?"

Putting his hands up to show that he was unarmed and that he would not make any aggressive movements, Seth did not say a word, his breath panting brokenly between his teeth.

"Get up," Sirius ordered, twitching the sword in warning.

Seth didn't have to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet as fast as possible, still keeping his hands up. "Please," he said again. "Please, don't hurt me…"

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to come with you," Seth said.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "For what purpose?"

"I-I couldn't stay there…not after…" he seemed to grow paler. "They just killed…every single one of them…" his breath became faster, more erratic as he remembered the dead bodies, the blood, the cries…

Sirius knew exactly what he was talking about and almost felt sorry for him. He still kept his sword pointed to the boy's chest, though. "Why did you follow us?"

"I was scared, okay?" Seth yelled, his voice coming out a bit higher than normal. "I don't know what's going on, but I wasn't about to stay there. Because I'm friends with Lat…I mean, Peter, I was afraid that they would question me next and kill me too." His eyes filled with tears but he made no move to wipe them away when they fell down his cheeks.

Sirius' voice was steel. "What makes you think that I won't kill you?"

Seth trembled and did not respond. He knew that Sirius did not like him – he never had.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw that Sir Rick was finally able to control the animal and was now searching through the supplies it carried. "You stole a horse from the army?" he demanded of Seth.

"I didn't mean to!" Seth said, defensively. "It was the closest and I just took it and ran."

"Empty your pockets."

"W-what?"

"Empty your pockets," Sirius ordered. "Now."

He watched as Seth jumped to obey. Balls of lint, a piece of string, several coppers and a rolled up ball of paper that contained a piece of chewing gum were all that they revealed. His coat pockets produced more lint, a pencil and a key. "To the Orphanage," Seth explained when Sirius inspected the last item.

When he was satisfied that there were no dangerous items, he had Seth back up against a tree and sit. "Don't move a muscle," he warned, sheathing his sword meaningfully.

Rick tied the stolen horse next to Malony and moved toward him saying, "There's nothing."

No threat, in other words.

That didn't mean that Sirius would let his guard down. If anything, it raised his suspicions higher. Pulling his cousin aside, Rick lowered his voice and asked, "Who is that gentleman?"

"A bastard son of the Bailey Household," Sirius answered. "No gentleman."

"You don't trust him."

"Of course I don't."

"He doesn't seem dangerous to me."

Sirius snorted. "Well. He just conveniently shows up whenever there's trouble." He couldn't help his sarcasm – something about Seth had always unsettled him.

Rick glanced at the newcomer, who was watching them with a fearful expression. "He's terrified," he noted.

"It may well be a façade," Sirius said, stubbornly. "We dare not let him ride with us."

"Do we dare leave him behind?" Rick asked. "He could easily set someone after us after a few simple questions. His type does not look like it needs much more persuasion than the tip of a whittled stick."

He had a point.

If they left Seth to his own devices, there was no telling who else could get involved. He might accidentally divulge information to an unwanted party and then they would have more trouble on their hands than they needed. Sirius glanced over at his cousin. "So, you propose we let him stay with us?"

"If he proves to be a problem, I will deal with it," Rick said, stoutly. "I've no qualms about protecting the Prince through any means necessary."

In other words, he would kill Seth without a moment's thought if he thought Peter was in mortal danger. Sirius did not doubt that – after all, one did not get to be in the King's Army by nursing a soft side.

He hated to admit it, but Rick was right. They could not leave the boy here. Either Seth came with them, or they would have to silence him. Between the two choices, Sirius favored the former.

He was no ruthless killer.

"This will slow us down considerably," Sirius sighed, at last. "Even though I did promise Peter that he could befriend whoever he wanted, that doesn't mean I have to trust his choice."

Rick gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Not everyone is out to get you," he said.

Sirius stubbornly set his chin. "It's better to be safe than sorry." He looked at Seth, who was huddled under the tree, watching them. Sure enough, he had not moved an inch from his spot.

"Leave the boy to me," Rick told him. "Do not worry over his likes. What you need is sleep. I shall keep watch tonight."

Sirius dipped his head in acknowledgement, glad that his cousin had come with them; after everything that had happened that day, he was eager to get some rest.

"Go on," Rick urged him. "The night is not getting any younger."

Gratefully, Sirius did as he was bid, shooting a glare in Seth's direction before picking up his bedroll and putting it near Peter's: despite Sir Rick's assurance, he did not want to leave Peter's side. If Seth meant to get to the Prince, he'd have to go through him first.

Rick did not comment on Sirius' decision, but rather, went to go retrieve his sword and bent to tend the fire afterwards. He kept the blade unsheathed close by, in case their new visitor decided to try something suspicious, but Seth merely watched him, frozen as a statue.

He found a comfortable spot on his bedroll close to the fire and began to sharpen a twig with the knife that hung on his belt. When the wood was stripped of its bark, he glanced up at the night sky.

The stars seemed to dance, and he remembered Peter's desire to count them all. Well it was going to be a long night: he didn't see the harm in trying it out for himself.

_One._

_ Two…_

**0-0-0-0-0**

James knelt before the other men, who stood over him, watching and listening. Each one of them wore grim expressions on their faces, trying to follow his hastily scratched images on the floor.

Already, they had planted their traps around the castle where James had instructed them to. He counted on the fact that the offenders would not be expecting them to be ready for an attack.

This time around, they were prepared.

Well…as prepared as they were going to get.

Dear Lord there were not enough men to fend off the masses of soldiers that had sheltered just beyond their walls. James felt responsible for all the men that had decided to stay behind with him.

He supposed this is what it must feel like to be a war leader, making plans and tactics, discussing war strategies while trying to find the best way to protect his men and keep them grouped. There were exactly 98 men from the Academy that had decided to stay behind and fight alongside him so he was adamant that he keep tabs on every single one of them. There was a funny feeling in his stomach while he spoke: a feeling of dread. Was there something he was missing? Another way that was better?

** "**If I may, Sir James?" A soldier politely cut in. He was leaning against the doorway to the Front Hall. All around them was fallen debris from the last battle that had not been cleared away. It would take months for the place to be fixed but with the current war on everyone's minds, it was the last of their priorities.

This soldier James knew as Alexander Parovic, a man he had been introduced to a long time ago when he had been younger. He gave the soldier a nod of acknowledgement, which was returned. Alexander pushed himself away from his resting place. "I think that if you spread your men so thinly, you will be unable to defend yourselves sufficiently."

"The same thing was in my thoughts," a man by the name of John Dawlish offered. "You might try to cover every single entrance into the Academy, but in doing so, you will be putting yourselves at a very high risk."

"We can't very well let them storm right in," James argued. "We will leave ourselves vulnerable to attack if we turn our backs to one side. Keep in mind that as they charge the school, they will also be breaking apart their groups."

Alexander moved forward. "I dislike disputing you, Sir, but I want to take everything into perspective. You must also keep in mind that their groups have numbers larger than yours."

James looked down at his pathetic sketches on the floor, heaving a sigh. "I know. I had thought to pick the enemy off as they tried to infiltrate the school. The goal, gentlemen, is not to fight, but rather, to defend. My ultimate aim is to prevent anyone from entering, so that they cannot hope to gain a foothold on us as they did only months past."

There was a silence as everyone focused again on the rough map. They were walking a dangerous line, and James found himself questioning his plans yet again. He was glad that the others were giving their input. Where was Peter when he was needed most? The boy was extremely good at mapping out the routes that the enemy might take. He remembered Peter's ability to make a chess game last for hours.

But this was no chess game.

He scrutinized his plans. Dawlish was right: there was a risk in spreading his forces thin, but there was also a risk in keeping them together. What, then, was the best thing to do? Troubled, he tapped the stick he was holding on the palm of his hand.

"Does anyone have another possibility?"

Francis piped up, "Ambush – take as many of them down with us as possible…"

James shook his head, grimly. "Valiant and noble, but a waste of men and lives." He reached out to clap the man on the shoulder. "Do not lose hope. We hold the advantage in that we know this terrain. In this respect, we have the upper hand."

"What about the underground passageways, then?" Another student suggested. "If we can lure them into the underground, then they will never find their way out."

"That's a thought," William said, eagerly.

"That puts us at a disadvantage," Goyle pointed out. "If we wish to traverse those lanes or regroup down there, we would not be able to. And there's no guarantee that some of those men wouldn't find a way out. What's worse, they could make it into our storehouses, our classrooms, even our Towers."

No, that wouldn't do at all. If they managed to spread their ranks within the Academy, there was no telling what they would do. Already, in James' mind's eye, he could see the precious building burning.

_H.W. Academy must not fall._

The students were still speaking, and James managed to focus in on the conversation again in time to hear another from the House of Slytherin say, "…with their numbers, they are capable of anything."

Anything.

Images of red flashed before his eyes.

The sound of steel.

The smell of burning flesh.

The feeling of helplessness.

The screams.

All of a sudden, he felt light-headed. His forehead beaded with sweat, and his knees buckled…

Sir Kenji must have picked up on his unease because he put his hand to James' back, silently keeping the man from toppling over. Without missing a beat, he proposed, "If we thought as the enemy, we might find weaknesses in our defenses."

Everyone gathered around the sketches again to look, and James gave Kenji a grateful smile. Kenji casually let his arm fall away, saying, "The enemy is stealthy. They will look for a back door."

That began a serious conversation about the most vulnerable spots of attack, and the best way to disperse troops.

James was about to add another couple of lines to his sketch so that it would make more sense, when a voice called out.

"Is something wrong with your arm, boy?"

Tensing, James turned his head to look at the person who had addressed him. A squat, sturdy man with a shock of stringy brown hair that looked like it hadn't seen a shower in days, clumped over toward them. His face was so scarred that his mouth was permanently turned down into a scowl, his left eye hardly visible. What was most noticeable was his right eye, apparently made of glass, which stared at them unblinking. In fact, it would swivel back and forth lazily, giving an impression that he was looking everywhere at once. Whether he could actually see from that eye or not, was unknown and nobody wanted to ask about it.

If his face was significant, it did not stop there. His uniform could not hide the fact that his hands were gnarled like claws, nor could it hide the way that he only had one good leg – the other was made of what looked like wood.

Clearly, this man had suffered through much.

Getting to his feet, James turned to face the man, trying not to let his irritation at being addressed so condescendingly, show. "Is something wrong with your leg?" he shot back, before he could help himself. Behind him, all the students shifted uncomfortably at his flippantness.

The man threw back his head and roared with laughter, the harsh barking sound filled the room, causing the few soldiers from the King's Army who were in the room to jump along with the students.

Warily, James watched as the man advanced toward him. "You have nerve, boy."

"My name is James Potter. Be sure to remember it," James told him, evenly. He forced himself to stare the man in the eyes….er…._eye_.

Again, the man laughed, and James felt himself flush with embarrassment. He was certain he was being made fun of, and his offhand remarks were only making it even worse.

"Oh I will! I like you, Potter," the man said, at last, leaning his big, bulky head forward to inspect James more thoroughly. "You've got spunk."

It was all James could do not to shrink away. This man exuded power. "Thank you. Sir," he added, remembering his courtesies at the last minute.

"You look like a plucked chicken," the man said, gruffly, "but I suppose your wit makes up for what you lack!"

Around them, the soldiers chuckled, and James' ego throbbed at the mockery. "I would have your name," he said, stiffly. "Sir."

The man leaned back, thumping his cane – James had completely overlooked it – on the ground. "Aye. My name is Alastor. Alastor Moody." He stuck his hand out, and his eye glittered in challenge.

James met the challenge and took the tree-like hand, shaking it firmly.

Alastor grinned, tightening his grip slightly. "You've got a firm handshake, Potter. I like that too – shows character."

James returned the grip, idly wondering if the man could even feel it. "It's nice to meet you too, Sir Alastor."

At that, Alastor snorted and let go. "It's Moody. It's always been Moody. And it will always be Moody. You be sure to remember _that_."

For some reason, James felt himself grin back. "Yes, sir. I will, sir."

Moody eyed him again, for good measure. "You'll do," he announced. "I hope you can fight with that injured arm." At James' set chin, he growled incomprehensibly before storming off, the clack of his wooden leg and his cane the only sounds in the room. Once he was gone, everyone let out an audible breath.

"Bly me!" Hagrid murmured. "Tha' bloke is mighty scary, in't he?"

"It's to be expected," James said, with a shake of his head. "He's a leader, and I dare say a good one at that."

"Sir James is right," Alexander interrupted. "Moody is gruff. He used to be an Optivus – endured all types of torture. I hear he sawed off his own leg in order to save the King in one mission."

Everyone sucked in a breath, wincing. "And now?" James asked. He couldn't help himself; he was curious.

"And now, he's retired from that post," Dawlish answered, with a shrug. "He doesn't see himself as fit for that standing any more, what with having to be fast and all."

"But he still fights," James pressed.

The burly man nodded. "The King couldn't stand him leaving the service, so he was asked to command. He did not refuse: he will do anything for His Majesty."

"I can see that."

"He's fierce, but he treats everyone like an equal," another soldier, whose name James did not know, assured them, leaning against the doorway to the Front Hall. "He might even have some good pointers."

That was exactly what James was thinking. He put down the stick and stepped back. "Excuse me, for a moment, gentlemen." Without waiting for a response, he hurried out of the room, in hopes to have a word or two with the ex-Optivus.

Despite the fact that the man had left only moments before, there was no sign of him when James exited the Hall. How on earth had he gotten away so fast?

The student peered in both directions. Maybe he'd see him again before the battle happened. He estimated the enemy would be upon them in three, max four hours. By that time, he had to have a final strategy…

"It's not healthy to stress."

Moody.

James spun around to face the man, who, despite his condition, had managed to shadow him without a single sound. It turned out Moody was standing just beside the doorway, and James had walked right past him.

Startled, James asked, "Sir?"

"You're worrying too much," Moody noted. "It's making your soldiers uneasy."

"Sir, they're not my soldiers," said the former Elite.

"They're following your commands, aren't they?" Moody asked, gruffly, his glass eye spinning around fully so that the pupil disappeared into the back of his head. The sight made James glance away.

"Yes…"

"Then, they're your soldiers."

James clenched his fists.

Moody considered him before saying, "There you go again, stressing." He softened his tone after a moment and amended, "If calling your fellow school mates 'soldiers' is too formal for you, you can call them your subordinates. I hear you were teaching them the art of swordplay."

James jerked his head once.

"They respect you and will follow your command. You don't have to worry about their loyalties."

"It's not their loyalties," James said, clenching his fists, frustrated. "I worry…Moody, what if…what if I'm making a big mistake? What if I'm just choosing a path blindly after all? What if my decision is not the best decision? What if - "

Moody's cane thumped the floor, cutting James off. "What if?" he growled, sounding not the least bit impressed. "Everyone makes mistakes, Potter."

James paused, surprised. "You heard my plans," he said, instead. He did not mean for his tone to sound accusing. Nor did he mean for it to sound pleading. Unfortunately, it sounded bitterly like both. "What do you make of them?"

"If you're asking me what choice I would make, then I'm afraid I can't make the decision for you."

Caught.

Cornered.

Damn it!

He had the grace to blush.

Again, Moody's cane thumped the floor. "You have to believe in yourself. If your subordinates see your uneasiness, their trust in you will waver."

James spread his hands, helplessly. "I'm worried I'll overlook something. Something important."

Moody was in front of him so fast that James let out a gasp. "Think of it this way: if no one answered your call for help, you'd have had to fend the entire Russian Army off on your own. What would you have done, then?"

"It would have been different. Every situation is different. With the amount of men that I currently - "

" - You have 371 men at your disposal, Potter, not including your own. Use them wisely," Moody interrupted.

Blinking, James demanded, "Sir?"

"Like I said earlier: you'll do." His gaze was unrelenting. "You demanded that we fight back. We understood it to mean that you are ready and willing to be responsible for the upcoming war. Now, it's time for you to live up to your words. Or are you all talk?"

Somehow, this man really knew how to grate on his nerves.

"So…you're relinquishing your command over your troops to me?" he slowly asked, trying to brush off the sting of Moody's words.

Moody gave him a ferocious grimace. "Every man is yours lest you die in duty."

James managed a bleak smile. "I thought you said that stressing wasn't healthy? I think my heart rate just doubled…"

Moody huffed. "I step on your toes a little and you act as though I ripped off your arm," he grumbled. "I may be a cripple, but I'm not stupid, boy. I'm not going to let you walk into the battle without some counseling. I'll be close by if you need my help."

Relieved, James was about to give his thanks, but Moody ploughed on. "The first piece of advice I have to give you is this: you should never have one plan." He tapped James' forehead. "Constant vigilance!" He stepped back, then, allowing the boy to take in his words. "If you're so afraid of making a mistake, have another plan to fall back on.

"Expect your plans to fail," Moody informed him. "You'd be one hell of a commander if your first plan was a sound one." His face twisted into that grotesque grin once more as his eye rolled back into its proper position.

"I wonder if someone can win a game they started with only half the pieces?" James muttered, darkly.

"You've got two, maybe three hours before you find out," was the unsympathetic answer. "Worrying won't make the battle go away."

James watched as the man turned his back, and began to slowly clump down the hall. He wondered whether Moody was trying to encourage him. If this was his method, then it wasn't working. In fact, James was beginning to think of the man as mad. He felt a guilty tug behind his navel when Moody suddenly turned, as though sensing his thoughts.

"You ever heard of the Battle of Thermopylae, Potter?"

"Of course. The famous uneven battle of the Greeks versus the Persians," James responded, smartly.

"I reckon we'll be as famous!"

"But...Moody...the Greeks died! They were overrun!"

Moody shrugged. "If I'm going to die, I'd rather take out as many of the bastards I can with me."

Horrified, James could only stare. Was he telling him that it was hopeless?

"Remember, Potter: don't stress!"

Yes. The man was definitely mad.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"I'd never thought I'd ever long to sit through one of Professor Gertrude's Lectures again."

Lily felt herself flush from top to bottom at the sound of the warm voice. "Pavel," she breathed, as a greeting.

"Lady Lily."

She felt her stomach clench at his smile. The last time she had seen him had been that night at dinner when he had openly confessed his feelings for her. After that…well…after that, she had forgotten all about him. Guilt ate at her conscience as she endeavored to return the smile. She supposed she looked rather pathetic. Trying her best to gather her wits, she said, "I'd take on Professor Binn's history lessons in a heartbeat."

His smile did not leave his face, and if he caught onto her uneasiness, she was glad that he did not mention it. "You more than me," was his response, his tone indicating that despite the circumstances, he would desire no such thing: Professor Binns was rated the dullest teacher H.W. Academy had ever hired, according to most students.

Desperate for the promised awkward silence that would follow not to show its presence, Lily asked, "Where are Aleksey and Karim?"

He gestured behind him, vaguely. "They are with Sir Lucius. They are discussing the quickest means for Prince Aleksey to return to the motherland." At her startled look, he explained, "It's not safe for him to remain here. We'd rather he get out of harm's way – England looks like it will become a battlefield." He offered her a shrug while he spoke, but the careless gesture told her that he was not very happy with the decision.

"You'll have to leave too, then," she guessed.

His smile became strained, but he kept it in place firmly. "It's inevitable."  
For some reason, she felt sad at the idea.

"It won't happen for a while, yet," he told her. "So for the time being, I will try my best to enjoy what time I have left here."

"If being on the run is what you mean by enjoying yourself…" she trailed off, pleased that his smile became more genuine.

They were on the move again, after a brief rest. This time, they were travelling as a larger group, because the rest of the men had managed to catch up. While it was cumbersome, nobody seemed to mind because they were at last reunited. It would have been better had the last of the men come with them, but they knew that they were the last to leave, and therefore, would be the last to arrive.

Unfortunately, Remus had been adamant that they start moving again. They could never be sure if they were being pursued, and Lily hated the feeling. This time around, however, there was a more relaxed feel to the air, and with a renewed spring in their step, the group trudged forward.

"It's best to think positively in these situations," Pavel told her. "Before you know it, we will be back at the Academy and laughing over this adventure."

_Adventure_.

She dearly hoped so. She was sick of the adventure already. Unable to tell him that, Lily nodded.

Pavel cleared his throat, looking for another topic that was more amiable. "Anyway. I came over to see how you were faring..."

Lily tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "I'm managing, if that's what you're asking," she said, cautiously. "I mean, I'm tired and all, but everyone is so I can't really complain."

He gave her a smile that made her blush before she could stop herself. "Would you like me to carry your pack for you?" he offered. "It's the least I can do to ease your burdens. You seem to be carrying enough as it is."

She shook her head. "No, it's all right – thank you for offering."

"Well, I will be present if you need me," he said, with a flourishing bow. When he straightened, a rumble greeted them and embarrassed, Pavel's hand flew to his stomach. "I could do with a bit of food," he said, sheepishly.

Lily found herself laughing. "But we just ate!"

"A man's got to have more than a sandwich," he protested. "I don't function well half-starved."

"You know as well as I do that the food is being rationed," Lily said. "It won't be given out again until much later. Hopefully, you can hang on until then."

In response, he flexed one arm. "A strapping man like me won't collapse so easily, my Lady." And then, on an afterthought, he added, "But I'm still hungry."

"If you want, you can always try to petition for something to eat right now. I think it's Sir Severus who's monitoring the supply wagons this cycle."

At the mention of the Slytherin Elite, Pavel made a face. "No, that's quite all right. I'm sure I'll survive. I'd rather go with you to those history lessons and listen to Professor Binns than start an argument with that man." And with that, he proceeded to visibly suppress a shudder.

Again, Lily laughed. It was a known fact that Severus could get quite obsessive about the books and numbers that he kept. All his records were constantly updated to the most miniscule point and he saw to it that his set plan was followed very carefully. She remembered what it felt like to take the job from him and it was all she could do to suppress a shudder of her own.

No, it wouldn't be smart to throw his numbers off.

Before they could exchange any more banter, however, Karim interrupted them, saying that Sir Lucius wanted a quick word. Pavel raised his hand in acknowledgement and turned apologetically to Lily. "If you'll excuse me, my Lady..." And when she merely nodded, he grasped her forearm. "I should...I should very much like to speak with you again. That is...well, that is...if you are all right with it..." his face had acquired a pleading look that was mixed in with uncertainty. Even in the dimness of the tunnel, Lily could tell that he was blushing.

His touch made her body lock, and her head seemed to move on its own accord, nodding again.

Pavel gave her the most brilliant smile and loped away. Lily stared after him, forcing herself to breathe.

"Could it be?"

Jumping, Lily whipped around to see Celena peering at her. For the second time that day, she felt herself flush from head to toe. She had totally forgotten that the girl had been walking alongside her the whole time. "Could it be what?"

"That you fancy him?"

_What?_

"I do not fancy Pavel!" she heard herself protest in a higher pitch than normal.

Celena hitched her pack more securely around her shoulders. "Good," she said, "because I wouldn't want my brother to be hurt."

Lily hurried to keep in step with the younger girl. "What are you talking about, Lady Celena? Pavel _knows_ that I'm dating James."

"Let's hope he remembers that," Celena said, seriously.

Lily glanced over her shoulder, to where Pavel was now standing with his friends. Seeing his handsome face laughing made her insides squirm. There was just something about him that set the butterflies jumping.

She nearly tripped when she heard Celena mutter, "And let's hope that you remember it, too."

Regaining her balance, Lily cleared her throat, trying to erase the feeling of uneasiness that Celena's words had brought. Her hand came up to grasp the small necklace that now took the place of the pendant that regularly hung around her neck. The guilt gradually gave way to a sick worry.

He was on his way. He had to be. He would catch up to them soon.

He was safe.

...Right?

_James..._

**0-0-0-0-0**

Far away, leaning against a pillar, surveying the land he had promised to protect, James turned the pendant around and around in his fingers.

The distant sound of marching reached his ears.

The enemy would soon be on their doorstep.

**To Be Continued...

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**

**AN:** Well, there you have it. I'm looking forward to your reactions. As for how long this story will be, I actually don't know. I'm still picking apart the threads that are seeming to tangle themselves more often than not. And believe it or not, your reviews help me to do that, so please, before exiting the window, do be so kind as to leave me one!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	20. Honor

**OPTIVUS by P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

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_

**AN: **I've recovered and I'm back. I hope everyone bears with me and forgives me for my delay in posting. In any case, here is the next chapter. Enjoy.

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_Previously:_

_" - You have 371 men at your disposal, Potter, not including your own. Use them wisely," Moody interrupted._

_Blinking, James demanded, "So…you're relinquishing your command over your troops to me?" _

_Moody gave him a ferocious grimace. "Every man is yours lest you die in duty."_

_Relieved, James was about to give his thanks, but Moody ploughed on. "The first piece of advice I have to give you is this: you should never have one plan." He tapped James' forehead. "Constant vigilance!" He stepped back, then, allowing the boy to take in his words. "If you're so afraid of making a mistake, have another plan to fall back on._

_"Expect your plans to fail," Moody informed him. "You'd be one hell of a commander if your first plan was a sound one." His face twisted into that grotesque grin once more as his eye rolled back into its proper position._

_"I wonder if someone can win a game they started with only half the pieces?" James muttered, darkly._

_"You've got two, maybe three hours before you find out," was the unsympathetic answer. "Worrying won't make the battle go away."

* * *

_

**Chapter 20**

**- Honor - **

Peter woke with a start and beside him, he saw Sirius' eyes fly open because of his sudden jerk.

It took the boy a few moments to realize that he was not in the hospital. A strong smell of pine assaulted his nostrils and the rising sun's rays warmed his face. A feeling of disorientation grappled with a sudden about of dizziness, and he blinked slowly, trying to come to terms with his new surroundings. Fatigue pressed at his shoulders, bit at his limbs, pounded through his head.

A glaze of trees provided protection against the worst of the rising sun so his eyes adjusted rather quickly as he sat up, surveying his surroundings.

Nearby, the remnants of a bonfire were still smoking. The horses were still tethered to a tree, waiting for their riders. On the ground close to the animals, was a bundled form, who was eying him with what seemed like fear.

Seth.

Coming fully awake, Peter croaked, "What happened?"

Sirius was the one who answered though. "He came in the middle of the night. Said he wanted to come along with us."

Head still reeling, Peter turned to face his friend. "Are we being followed?"

"Not that we're aware of," Sirius said, throwing his blankets off. "And for your friend's sake, let's hope not."

Rick chose to enter the camp just then, holding a fresh bucket of water in his hands. Seeing his companions awake, he called, "There's food prepared if you'll have some. I rather thought you would like to sleep in a little longer."

This time, Sirius grumbled something under his breath that was unintelligible. Despite the fact that he was exhausted, he got to his feet and stretched. He couldn't help feeling irritable – it was just one bad thing after another. He had never thought that he'd miss a normal school routine so much. And did he mention the fact that he wasn't a very good morning person?

Peter did not comment on his friend's bad mood, rather, he rolled out of his own makeshift bed and proceeded to roll it up. He wisely held his tongue about Seth, knowing that Sirius was still brooding over his dislike for him.

They shared a quick meal of bread and cheese and left over meat and potatoes. Seth did not join them, still watching them with terrified eyes.

Not able to stand the silence any longer, Peter demanded, "How long until we reach the Academy?"

Rick tilted his head back to judge the sun's position in the sky. "If we ride hard, we can make it there by tomorrow afternoon at the earliest." He gestured with a stick, meaningfully. "That is, if we don't settle for the night."

"Impossible," Sirius said, with a shake of his head around a mouthful of food. "That would jeopardize the Prince's health."

"I'll be fine," Peter said, but Sirius shot his friend a pointed look. "I could always sleep in the saddle!" The boy insisted, unwilling to back down.

Sirius narrowed his eyes, but did not argue any further. He was not in the mood to. In fact, he was in a horrible disposition that day, so he chose to keep his mouth shut for fear of saying something that he would probably regret.

Seeming to sense this, Rick and Peter exchanged glances before the former said, "Well, we will definitely need to rest now and again, and if worse comes to worse, we won't push ourselves. We will try to make it there in the best time." He motioned for them to finish with their meals. "If we want to get there as soon as possible, though, we should get moving. I want no further arguments during this meal, if you please."

At that, the boys returned to their meals in silence. Once finished, Peter, ignoring Sirius' scowl, bundled up a portion of his bread and cheese and made his way toward Seth. Even Rick paused his eating to watch as the younger boy offered the food to him.

"Eat," he commanded, gently. "If you fall off your saddle due to hunger, we can't stop for you."

Seth slowly took the food, the first movement he had made since the night before. Lowering his voice, Peter whispered, "Don't you worry about Sirius."

Seth did not respond, choosing instead to eat, his dirty fingers ripping the bread apart and shoving it hastily into his mouth as if afraid that Sirius would storm over and confiscate it from him. But true to Peter's word, Sirius did not stop him. Instead, the elder boy went off toward the river and Rick began cleaning up camp.

There was a long silence as Peter settled himself on the grass next to Seth. Almost as if sensing his rider close by, Jerohim neighed softly, calling for Peter's attention. Absently, he reached up to stroke the animal, who accepted the gesture eagerly.

"Do you know any songs?"

The odd question taking him by surprise, Seth asked, "What?"  
"Songs. It's said that animals communicate to human beings best through songs."

Seth ripped off another piece of bread, not knowing how to respond.

"Apparently, animals don't understand human language," Peter continued, still stroking Jerohim's nose. "But they understand the tone of voice you use. So, technically, I could call this animal a stupid beast and he would never guess if I don't sound upset."

Again, a silence fell and Seth continued his meal in silence. He was just mustering up the courage to say something when Peter ploughed on. "Tarantulas are different – they don't understand anything."

"Tarantulas?"

"Yeah. They're interesting pets. I have five of them," and there was such pride in his voice that Seth couldn't bear to let his disgust show.

"I...er...I don't own any pets," Seth said, at last. "Mistress Salison never let us keep any."

"Well, I suppose not," Peter said, after a moment's contemplation. "I don't suppose she'd take kindly to having Tarantulas, or else I'd offer you one of mine."

At last, Seth broke into a grin. "No, I don't think she'd like that." And in all truth, he didn't want to imagine taking care of such an animal, either. Still, the thought of the ever-stern woman blanching in fear was something very amusing.

"Oy, you two, make yourselves useful!" Rick's call brought the two out of their conversation. "Latch these bags onto your horses and get ready for the saddle," the elder man instructed.

Sirius came back, looking refreshed, his dark hair slicked back. He had most likely taken a quick dip in the river, because he had even changed his clothes. He now sported lighter material, which he was quickly trying to smooth out from its creases. Despite his disheveled, scruffy look, he still managed to radiate a confidence that Peter found himself envious over.

The quick clean up seemed to have put Sirius in a better mood because he managed to look Seth's way without a glare. Instead, he all out ignored the boy and spoke directly to Peter. "I've laid some clothes and a cake of soap down for you by the bank. It's a little cold so you can just wash up if you don't feel like bathing. And - "

"-And I know the rest," Peter said, cheerfully. "If I need any help, I'm to call for it," he recited.

Sirius nodded. "Well...yes...get on with you, then. You have ten minutes."

Peter sighed and began to clamber to his feet as soon as Sirius turned his attention to the horses.

Seth watched him as he rose, and asked, "Why do you let him do that?"

Dusting off his breeches, Peter hummed in indication that he did not understand what the question was pertaining to.

"You let him order you around and stuff."

Peter shrugged. "I'm quite used to it."

"He likes doing that, doesn't he?" Seth asked, bitterly.

The young prince glanced in Sirius' direction, watching as his friend began to groom the animals. "No, he's just doing it because he's worried about me."

"Is he, though?" Seth sounded skeptical. "He sounds like he is always impatient or something."

"That's not true," Peter said, defensively. "He's been taking care of me since I was younger. He's always been like this."

Still, Seth didn't look convinced. "No offense, but he reminds me of those people in the hospital that are just plain tired of having to take care of someone long term. It's like the sick person becomes some sort of a burden to them."

A burden.

Peter felt his cheeks start to heat. He knew he shouldn't believe it, but a small part of him was terrified – what if it was true? Sirius _had_ become rather testy lately... Still watching said person, Peter shook off that feeling.

No.

No, Sirius was just stressed. It wasn't easy to keep hiding and being on the run. It wasn't an easy responsibility to keep them alive. "He is preoccupied of late," Peter mumbled, trying not to feel troubled.

"Peter! Get a move on!" Sirius called, "Or else we'll never reach the Academy on time!"

Startled, Peter jumped to do as he was told, but not before meeting Seth's _I-told-you-so_ gaze. He hurried away, not wanting to argue any further, lest he start to take things too seriously.

A little while later, fresh, clean and smelling of soap, Peter rode next to Sirius, watching Seth sway on the horse in front of him.

The forest closed in around them, and he was actually thankful that the clothes he was wearing were much lighter than they had been the night before – it was stifling hot. The sound of birds chirping seemed louder, more magnified in the cover of trees. While the horses' tails flicked away the bugs, they came back time and time again, as though interested in the travelers that crossed their lands. Peter didn't mind them at all, but Seth was always jumping and swatting at something. If he hadn't been so absorbed in his thoughts about the conversation earlier, Peter was certain that he would have found it very comical.

He was brought out of his brooding when Sirius leaned over. "Is there something the matter, my lord?"

His answer came too quickly, too innocently. "No!"

Sirius raised one eyebrow, obviously not buying into his response, but instead of pushing the issue, he asked, "Are you feeling any pain?"

He did a quick assessment before shaking his head. "I feel just fine. Just a little tired, I suppose."

"Will you be all right?"

Peter set his jaw, stubbornly. "I can make it. You don't need to worry all the time." And perhaps his tone of voice was a bit too sharp because Sirius blinked twice and nodded once before falling silent. Peter immediately opened his mouth to apologize for his snap, but his friend urged Thuagor forward so that he could ride next to Rick instead.

Miserable, Peter returned his gaze to Seth's back.

If his new-found friend heard their conversation, he didn't bother to show it.

They continued on like that, and finally, Seth fell back a little to keep him company. "Is your friend always moody, too?"

Peter held in a sigh. "No, like I said, he's just preoccupied."

Seth, however, was not as refined because he sneered, "Well, he always looks like he's eaten something bad, you know?"

Peter pulled on the reins to his horse and the animal responded to his touch with ease, slowing to a stop and waiting patiently for its rider to give it a signal to move again. In the meantime, it lowered its head to the grass to graze. "Can you please refrain from derogatory remarks about Sirius?"

Seth pulled his horse back too, but his did not take kindly to the gesture, whinnying in protest but eventually halting as well. "I didn't mean to offend you," he started to say, "I just - "

"-It's fine," Peter interrupted. "I know you don't like him, but can you at least make the effort to get along with him? He is doing his best, too, you know, for my sake."

Seth angrily pointed at Sirius up ahead. "Doing his best?" he demanded, incredulous. "Last night, he threatened to kill me!"

Peter passed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling very weary. The feeling was akin to that of waking up the next day after surgery. "I already told you, he's preoccupied about something. He won't do it again."

His friend contemplated that, before kicking his heels to the animal under him. "Fine," he relented. "I'll be as civil as possible."

"Thank you."

"Gentlemen, is there a problem?" Sir Rick called. Whipping his head around, Peter saw that the two up ahead had stopped too, and were turned to face them, waiting.  
"My horse was hungry," Peter lied, pulling at Jerohim's reins. "Sorry..." They hurried to catch up, and Sirius, without looking over, said, "Don't lag behind. It's not safe and it will slow us down."

Peter was surprised when Seth responded, "Yes, sir. We're sorry."

Sirius regarded him coldly and began to lead them forward again, picking their way up the hill.

Sir Cyath had been right: it was going to be a long journey.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Carnage.

There was no other word for it.

He didn't think even God would forgive him.

He stared at the sea of bodies, feeling ill to his stomach. While he had seen death before - witnessed it, dealt it – he had never seen it on such a massive scale. He found it difficult to breathe as his eyes took in the slumped, sprawled bodies. The whole Auditorium, which could easily fit more than a thousand people, was filled; even the aisles were littered with them.

His plan had worked.

It had worked a little too well.

It was only when Moody spoke that James realized he had lost feeling in his arms. The strange numbing was slowly starting to make its way to his legs. Some of it had already crept to his head, and he shook it to try and clear it.

"Now's not the time to go into shock, boy," Moody said, clapping him on the shoulder that was injured. Somehow, the pain in the sting was comforting. At least, it started to send some feeling to his torso again.

As if in a dream, James turned to face the older man, in time to see him take out a silver flask, unstop it and take a swig.

Oh…

He really _was_ going to be sick.

Moody noticed and began to push him back, off the stage, into the wings where the scene would be blocked from view.

It helped, if only a little. The picture would be forever imprinted in his mind.

"Sit down, Potter, before you fall over," Moody commanded, forcing him into a squatting position. His head was pushed between his knees and he was told to take deep breaths.

Still feeling numb, James could not argue, latching on to the command as though it were a lifeline. Tears of frustration pooled in his eyes.

He was still such a child!

So innocent – so naive. How on earth had he ever thought he could take on such responsibility?

He wanted to cry out, to scream, to curse.

But he didn't. Instead, he concentrated on breathing, as he was told to.

Slowly, the shock subsided, the numbness giving way to blessed pins and needles that swept through his body like an angry thunderstorm.

"Are you all right?" The voice belonged to Kingsley, who was now kneeling next to him. Somewhere in the distance, James could make out Moody's authoritative voice calling out orders.

"I…"

"It's all right, they're dead," Kingsley said, and though he said it in a reassuring tone, it only served to make James feel worse.

He knew that.

He _knew_ that!

"Because of me," James managed to whisper, "all those people…"

"You did what you had to," Kingsley told him. "Don't feel guilty about doing your duty."

Duty.

That's always what he had thought it was.

But what he had performed was mass murder. Those people hadn't even known it was coming…

Kingsley took his shoulders and shook him so hard that his teeth chattered. "Those soldiers were prepared to slaughter everybody!" he reminded him. "You did what you could to protect your people. It's not your fault."

James forced himself to take some more breaths, choosing not to respond.

It had been surprisingly simple.

Poison.

On the pretense that the students of the Academy were starting off the celebrations of the Festival within the Castle walls, they had invited the soldiers in, seated them down in the Auditorium and served each and every one of them fine mead and food. The soldiers, having spent time down in Hogsmeade with limited provisions, had gladly taken up the invitation to eat and drink.

At first, James had feared that the poison that was used had not been very potent. He feared he had made a mistake and that he had grabbed the wrong ingredients from Severus' meticulous store of chemicals. But ten minutes into Sir Avery's piano recital, some soldiers were starting to get dizzy. When James came to replace him with a guitar piece, he started to see the poison work for real. Wave after wave of soldiers began to keel over, their food and drink falling from their laps and hands to crash to the floor in a horrible mess. They began to writhe, some of them even to froth at the mouth.

Other soldiers began to panic, rising out of their seats as if to run from whatever it was that seemed to have affected their fellow soldiers. They didn't make it very far.

It was over in less than five minutes after that: nobody moved.

Silence had never seemed so loud.

The only sound in the room had been James' guitar falling from his hands and crashing to the stage, mid-strum.

Kingsley hauled him to his feet a while later, breaking him out of the dark memories that were already sinking into his brain, saying, "There might be more coming. We've got to be ready."

More?

More killing?

The dark-skinned man shook him again, though this time, not as forcefully. "Come on, Sir James! Snap out of it!"

Struggling to do as he was asked, James blinked to clear his vision, feeling the tears spill over, down his cheeks in hot rivulets. Embarrassed, he reached up to swipe them away. "Where…is Moody?" he asked.

Kingsley's face, which had been pinched into a frown, seemed to relax with relief. "He's told the men to gather the weapons of the fallen soldiers. They'll aid us in the real battle."

Well, the first plan wouldn't work again, that was for sure.

James began to move, before he could start thinking about all those bodies again. "Make sure everyone gets into formation right afterward. Keep our runners updated at all times. We'll pass messages through the lines – if there are reinforcements, we should be able to meet them evenly on the field."

The last report he had had on a headcount of soldiers in the village had been about 700 men. That the numbers had risen well over one thousand was really troubling. He hadn't thought the village could hold any more, but apparently it had. Now, they would just have to wade it through the remainder of the forces, if any remained to attack.

The soldier nodded, giving him a crisp salute, before turning his heel to bark the orders.

Once he was gone, James took a minute to take a few more calming breaths before steeling himself to face the massacre again.

The other students were taking it surprisingly well as they picked their way through the dead bodies, helping to confiscate weapons. Perhaps it was because they hadn't seen the poison do its dirty deed. Or, perhaps it was because of denial. In any case, James had no doubt that their shock would catch up with them. He dearly hoped it wouldn't come in the middle of battle.

He was lucky, he supposed, that the first plan had worked accordingly. He hadn't been sure how the soldiers would react to their hospitality, and he had feared for questions that could not be answered.

Setting himself on automatic, he moved toward the exit of the Auditorium not looking to the left nor the right: he had to get out of there before he went crazy. Once outside, he pulled some more deep breaths, feeling tremors run up and down his body. He knew one thing for sure: he would never be able to sit in the Auditorium again without remembering that scene. His stomach churned at the memory.

"You did good, Potter. Real good," Moody's sudden voice came from behind him, and James whirled to face him. How did the man _do_ that? He swallowed, trying to get the feeling of his heart out of his throat. It fell back down to its place in his chest and thrummed up at him, fully dosed with adrenaline.

Moody's eye seemed to twinkle, and James swore that he liked to creep up on him just to see him jump. "Usually, the first plans never go right," the elder man said, dryly.

"I must be one hell of a commander then," went James' flippant mouth.

The ex-Optivus did not seem to care. "Aye, so it seems. I knew you would do."

His stomach churned again at Moody's casual tone. How could he be so cool about all this? In truth, James wanted to pin all the blame on the man's shoulders, but he knew that that wouldn't be fair.

Moody growled, "This is war. People die. Choices have to be made – they may not always be the best choices. They may not always be the right choices. But someone has to make them. I thought your mentor was Merrythought?"

At the mention of the late professor, James said, "He was, but…"

"-Then he must have told you that in battle, you are going to have to make sacrifices," this time, Moody's eye glittered with something other than humour. It made James' spine crawl. "Even if you have to sacrifice your sanity."

He didn't know what possessed him to do it. His anger stirred inside him, making his blood rush to his face, and he reached out to grab Moody. "Never again," James whispered, steely. "Never again, will I fight a battle this way."

When Moody made to wrench his arm from James' grip, saying, "Dead is dead, Potter, no matter how you kill the enemy," James swore.

"No! Never. Again. If being ruthless and throwing away my humanity is what it means to be an Optivus, I don't want any part of it. I may as well be a monster like Ivan. I may as well let Toma get away with this war." He had never felt so ashamed before in his life.

They stared at each other, long and hard, and Moody finally looked away. "It looks like Dumbledore taught you well," he said, at last. "Honour, even on the battlefield," he sounded disgusted. "Maybe you're not what I thought you were."

James straightened, letting Moody's arm go. "Say what you will. I stand by my morals, and may God forgive me for the crime I have committed today. I refuse to stoop to the level of my enemies again."

Moody stepped away, huffing. "I can respect that." He sized James up with his good eye once more before inclining his head once. "At least you've got a good head on your shoulders."

James managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Moody."

"Let's just hope your scrawny body can keep up with it!"

James checked to make sure the sword by his waist was clear in its scabbard, choosing to let the insult slide. He wasn't feeling up to arguing any longer, and he had come to see Moody's biting sarcasm as his version of poking fun, however discourteous.

"Don't think you are safe yet," Moody told him. "There are still soldiers within the village, according to our scouts."

James straightened. "There's no turning back now. The Russians will realize that their men are not returning. Post a warning, I don't care how – we will openly declare war."

**0-0-0-0-0**

They had been traveling for hours, and the scenery had not changed at all. In fact, it seemed that they were going around in circles - there seemed no end in sight of the trees around them. They rode in silence for the most part, each trying to conserve as much energy as possible. Even the horses seemed somber, as they picked their way over the soft ground.

Proof that the woods was not a place that was frequently traveled.

Seth looked back over his shoulder, and jumped when Peter noted, "Why do you keep doing that?"  
"Doing what?"  
"Looking behind you."

Seth wiped his hand across his nose. "I'm just making sure we're not being followed..."

Peter was about to respond when up ahead, Sir Rick raised his hand to signal them all to stop. Obediently, the other three drew to a halt. "We will stop here," he announced, promptly sliding off his horse. "The horses are tired and so are we. The terrain seems to get rougher up ahead, so it's best if we get some rest before tackling it."

Sirius, of course, did not argue. He jumped from his saddle as well, and Seth followed his example. Rick led his horse over to a clearing so that she could graze, pulling Seth with him. Sirius made to do the same, but Peter stayed rooted in his saddle.

Surprised, Sirius turned to face him. "Peter? Aren't you coming?"

Peter looked down at him. "I am...however..."

There was a tense moment before Sirius slowly said, "I know you're impatient to get to the Academy, but we must stop to eat, my lord."

Still, Peter did not budge from his seat.

Inwardly, Sirius sighed. Why was Peter being so difficult today? He was moodier than normal. He supposed it was from the lack of sleep, what with the way the boy's eyes seemed to be closing on their own.

"It's not good for you to push yourself so hard," Sirius tried again. "You're still recovering, after all..."

"It's not that," Peter interrupted, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. "It's..." he lowered his voice and said something that Rick and Seth were not able to hear from where they were situated.

After a moment, Sirius nodded in understanding and reached up to gently lift Peter from his saddle and helped him stay upright when his feet touched the floor. Peter was glad for his assistance; his back and legs were hurting so badly that he was afraid he would not be able to walk. In fact, he just wanted to collapse and burst into tears, but using Sirius as a crutch, he was able to hold his head high and wobble toward the rest of the party.

Rick wisely held his tongue, while Seth watched in interest.

As they went about setting up a quick camp, Peter fell asleep almost instantly against a fallen log. He couldn't even stay awake long enough to share some late lunch. Sirius tucked a blanket around him to help him get comfortable while Rick tried to figure out the best route to take. Unfortunately, neither of the men were very familiar with the North Woods enough to have a good idea of their course. Seth sat a distance away, listening to them.

He wanted to get going as soon as possible.

He knew they were all in danger.

Again, he glanced over his shoulder.

While they had made great progress already and covered a long distance, he had a sense of foreboding.

Maybe...

Just maybe he was able to outrun them.

But he knew deep down that it was impossible: his cover had been blown.

_They knew. _

He was no longer safe.

He eyed Peter, who was still fast asleep, and felt guilt tug at him. He shouldn't have tagged along...

At the same time, Peter was the key to everything – befriending him was like hitting a gold mine.

If he was lucky, maybe he wouldn't have to worry about the danger. Soon, he would be free of all that. With Peter, he would be able to get away from anything.

But if Peter realized his true intentions, Seth would be in even more trouble than he was in already.

It was a double-edged sword.

He was brought out of his brooding when Sirius addressed him. "Fill these skins with water from the brook," he instructed. "We shall clean up here and cover our tracks while you do so."

Surprised that the elder man was talking directly to him, he took the leather flasks from him. "Yes, sir...but what about..."

"Don't worry. I've set aside a portion of food for Peter. For now, we shall let him sleep. He needs it."

Again, Seth felt that stab of guilt, but this time, toward Sirius as well. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all...

Trying to shake off the feeling of foreboding, Seth clutched the flasks to himself and went to the river. Falling to to his knees beside it, he began to fill them as instructed. The water was cool and fresh over his hands – against the heat of the day, it felt good. He couldn't resist the urge to plunge his face in and take a long drink.

He was just finishing up when he heard footsteps behind him. "I've got them," he called, scrambling to his feet, and capping the skins. "Sorry, I was just - " He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence because something struck him hard. He was so surprised that he could not even cry out.

The leathers fell to the floor, and he followed soon after.

**To Be Continued...

* * *

**

**AN:** This is a rather short chapter this time around. But it's better than nothing, right? I apologize for my sudden and rather long absence. I also want to thank all those people who gave me well-wishes. I had to go through surgery and then, three research papers...and honestly, I just hit a brick wall. Let's hope that doesn't happen again for the next chapter. Hopefully it will come out much sooner than this one did. To all those who have finals coming up, good luck! I'm sure I'll need it.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	21. When Complications Arise

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies. All original ideas/characters are mine to claim.

* * *

_

**AN:** I don't think I've ever had such a long period wherein I did not update. Almost half a year. The last time I updated was in April. Apologies. Here you go, my longest (and latest) chapter to date.

Enjoy.

* * *

_Previously: _

_Seth knew they were all in danger._

_Again, he glanced over his shoulder._

_While they had made great progress already and covered a long distance, he had a sense of foreboding._

_Maybe..._

_Just maybe he was able to outrun them._

_But he knew deep down that it was impossible: his cover had been blown._

_They knew. _

_He was no longer safe._

_Trying to shake off the feeling of foreboding, Seth clutched the flasks he had been asked to fill to himself and went to the river. The water was cool and fresh over his hands – against the heat of the day, it felt good. He couldn't resist the urge to plunge his face in and take a long drink._

_He was just finishing up when he heard footsteps behind him. "I've got them," he called, scrambling to his feet, and capping the skins. "Sorry, I was just - " He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence because something struck him hard. He was so surprised that he could not even cry out._

_The leathers fell to the floor, and he followed soon after.

* * *

_

**Chapter 21**

**- When Complications Arise -**

Sirius impatiently swatted at a mosquito as he bent down to retrieve his pack. It rattled and smacked against his leg and he quickly turned to see if he had somehow roused Peter with the slight noise.

The boy lay under his blanket, fast asleep.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, he began to try and find Peter's medication. He tried to mentally calculate how much time it had been from his last dose and realized, with a start, that he had not administered it at all to his charge since they had left the hospital.

"All right there, Sir Sirius?" Sir Rick called, having seen Sirius freeze.

Bleakly, Sirius glanced at Peter's sleeping figure again, feeling very guilty. "I'm fine," he replied. If only he hadn't been so preoccupied with his frustration at moving so slowly, he wouldn't have forgotten. He knew, though, that it was not a good excuse. He could not jeopardize Peter's health...he couldn't afford to.

He found the plastic container and stared at the pills within. No wonder Peter had been moodier than usual. Sirius had passed it off as Seth's influence that had been the reason to the boy's dampened spirits.

Speaking of which...

He bounced the medication in the palm of his hand once, calling, "Sir Rick, have you seen Seth?"

Rick looked up from grooming his horse. "I haven't seen him since you asked him to fill the leathers."

"It's taking him an awful long time just to get water," Sirius said, with a frown.

"Maybe he got lost," Rick offered.

"Or maybe he's run back to whomever it is that sent him to spy on us," Sirius countered.

Rick looked up while running the coarse brush over his horse's flanks. "Sir Sirius..."

Sirius stood up. "I find I cannot shake the feeling of uncertainty when it comes to him. Ever since we first laid eyes on him in the hospital, he's..." he trailed off, unsure how to word himself. He let out a huff of air. "I just don't trust him, Sir Rick. He's up to no good." The boy had seemed a bit too helpful – too cheerful. It almost seemed...well, it almost seemed fake.

As if to interrupt them, Malony tossed her mane and stomped impatiently. Tossing the small bottle of pills to Rick, he called, "I'm going to go check on him. Give these to Peter when he wakes!" And before the elder man could stop him, Sirius disappeared into the brush.

There were things Sirius was certain he was able to boast about: tracking was definitely not on the list. Remus was very good at that, and he wished his friend were there to help him as he pushed further into the forest, looking for a trail that Seth might have left behind. He remembered Remus teaching them how to spot different clues that might suggest a certain road that the traveler might have chosen to take.

Having a father who was a war leader might have something to do with how Remus had learned about the trade.

_Having a father who actually took the time to teach him the trade might have something to do with it, too,_ Sirius thought, darkly. Before his thoughts could turn to his own father, Sirius instead tried to remember Remus' short lessons.

He began to search the soft ground for any footprints and he easily found a trail heading toward the brook. Good. So the boy didn't wander off after all. Irritated, Sirius followed it. Why was Seth taking so long? They had to get moving. If he had known that the boy would drag his feet, Sirius would have done the task of getting water himself.

Suddenly, he heard a voice, and instinctively, Sirius drew back. Had Toma's men managed to follow them? But they'd been so careful! Peeking over the hedge he was crouched behind, Sirius saw a man dressed in supple clothing colored dark green and brown. Splotches of black lined his figure, making him seem to blend in with the forest. He was holding what looked like a crudely made club. Looking closely, Sirius could see Seth's body, sprawled before the man.

The boy was struggling to his hands and knees. One of his hands reached up to touch his forehead and came away with blood. When the man behind him spoke, Sirius saw Seth stiffen and turn. "Kessick..." he breathed, in a half-whimper.

"It's not fun when I have to run after you," Kessick responded, in a voice that was just as flat and empty as his eyes. "I hope you didn't forget our deal?"

Seth considered asking to get out of it, but he knew that it would only result in his death. "I...I haven't forgotten," he whispered.

Kessick considered his words, tapping the edge his club the palm of his hand. "Oh, good," he said, in an almost lazy way. "For a minute there, I thought you did. I've come to collect my due – I don't like being cheated." He brandished his weapon, meaningfully.

"I..I don't have it yet...but I'm close, Kessick!" Seth begged. "I wasn't running away. I promise!" he had flipped himself over fully, now, on his back so that he was facing his pursuer. "I...I just need a little more time..."

Kessick let the weapon thump in his hand once. "Sorry. You've missed the deadline. There is no more time."

Without thinking, Sirius charged out of the brush, just as Kessick raised his club.

In surprise, the man turned and managed to brace himself against the impact of Sirius' body slamming into his. Seth forgotten and weapon dropped, he turned his attention to Sirius, hands grappling as Sirius managed to knock him off his feet at last.

Sirius was fast, but Kessick proved to be faster, gaining the upper hand as the element of surprise faded. In moments, he had Sirius pinned beneath him. But Sirius was strong, and with a grunt, the student grasped the man by the collar and putting a foot to the man's middle, he threw him over.

Kessick was on his feet in a flash, a snarl in his throat. Sirius shivered involuntarily at it – this was a man who would not shy away from killing someone. With a stab of fear, Sirius thought of Peter and Rick. Were there others with this man? If so, he was willing to bet that they would not hesitate to kill either. He panted as he rolled over and hunkered down, trying to think.

Sirius was never good at confrontations. He was more the type to avoid such situations, and was rather good at doing so. He could remember running away from his father when the man had been in the mood to strike him. He disliked close combat.

Memories of his childhood came rushing back and threatened to choke him as Kessick came forward and locked arms with him again. Kessick's punches were just as hard, just as painful. In seconds, Sirius lost his sense of equilibrium, staggering backward.

Behind them, Seth watched, cowering.

"Who the hell are you?" Kessick shouted, driving a knee up into Sirius' groin.

Sirius cried out, curling in on himself as pain made his vision go white.

In his mind's eye, Sirius could make out his father's advancing figure. Hatred flared in him, hot and furious. How he'd wanted the man to drop dead, back then! Shaking, Sirius blinked, feeling the same anger toward this total stranger, who represented a very real threat not only to him, but to his friends.

Seeming to come to his senses, Seth grabbed the fallen club. With a sickening crunch, the boy swung the weapon around and slammed it into Kessick's legs. The man's shriek of agony rang through the small clearing, and Sirius felt himself moving again, aiming to use Seth's distraction to its fullest. His hands pulled his sword free from his waist and Kessick's second scream was cut short as Sirius swept his blade across the man's neck.

He watched as Kessick's wide eyes stared in disbelief, his hands reaching up to clutch at his severed windpipe. When he tried to gasp for air, his mouth filled with blood. There was so much of it that Sirius felt his stomach flop uneasily – now he understood why Remus did not like the sight. In sudden exhaustion, Sirius stumbled backward again, sword falling from his fingers, and with a splash, fell on his bottom in the water that surrounded them. His breath came in ragged pants, and he eyed the man's writhing body that had crumpled to the bank. In moments, it stopped convulsing and stayed still.

Seth was on his knees in the sand, trembling, his hands clutching the club with a white-knuckled grip. "Y-you just..."

Sirius pinned a glare at him. "He was going to kill you," he growled.

When Seth glanced at Kessick's body fearfully, Sirius got up. "Don't worry, he's dead." He scooped up his sword and, using the water from the brook, washed it clean. Then, he bent over the dead body and wiped it on the man's clothes.

He didn't want the blade to get rusty.

Seth could not move, still watching Sirius in disbelief as the older man worked. How could he be so calm and collected? Suddenly, he knew that Sirius' threats were not something to be taken lightly. For the umpteenth time, he wondered if he had made the right choice in following them. But he needed Peter's help so badly...again, he eyed Kessick's body, and suppressed a shudder.

"I saved you because I know Peter would be upset. But now," Sirius said, sliding the sword back into its scabbard, the motion frightfully meaningful, "you will answer my questions."

**0-0-0-0-0**

James sucked on a mint leaf, hoping that it would help him to quell the nausea he was feeling. He had a powerful headache, almost as though he had bashed it against the wall. It was so bad that it was upsetting his stomach.

"Your headache is the result of your lack of sleep," Kenji's knowing voice made James straighten from his position against the wall where he had slumped over as he waited for the worst of the pain to pass.

"I was just..."

"You need your rest," Kenji said, ignoring James' effort to come up with an excuse. "If you pass out in the middle of battle, I fear your headache will be the least of your concerns."

Despite the graveness of the situation, James felt himself smile. The mere action, however, made his face feel like it was going to break. He'd had headaches in the past, but this one was beyond painful. "I can't rest," he said. "There isn't any time..."

Kenji looked over his shoulder, where a few of the King's Army were gathered around Moody. They were busy with the weapons that they had managed to retrieve from the Russian Army. What they were doing with them, he had no idea. He turned his attention back to James. "My mother used to tell me that ten minutes of rest does the body a world of good."

James rubbed at his forehead, tiredly. "Ten minutes..."

"I shall stand watch, if you would," the Ravenclaw offered. "If anything should happen, I shall wake you." Without waiting for a response, he grasped James by the forearm and all but dragged him down the hallway toward the Lounge. James was too tired and in too much pain to do anything but stumble after him, protesting the whole way.

Once inside the room, Kenji had him sit down on one of the couches. "No one will disturb you," he promised.

"But what of Toma's intentions? Have we heard anything?"

"Strangely enough, Toma did not send us a reply to our declaration of war. I think he fears what happened to his men within these walls."

James shook his head, and instantly regretted doing so, because the pain in his head flared white hot. "That does not give us an excuse to get lazy."

Kenji huffed, "Resting and being lazy are two very different things, good sir. Now, I insist that you close your eyes at the least. You've gone through much, and have done enough for now. Let us take care of the rest."

The cushions were awfully inviting. Like a ton of bricks, James felt the fatigue that Kenji had spoken of, fall on his shoulders. He was certain he could fall asleep for more than ten minutes if given the chance. The sudden quiet was soothing.

He moaned, putting his head in his hands and breathing through his mouth. He didn't know when Kenji left the room, just that when he returned, he found himself curled into a ball at the edge of the couch. He was handed something to drink.

Medicine.

"It will help," Kenji told him. "I retrieved it from Madam Pomfrey's cabinet." At James' skeptical look, the man added, "My father is a doctor, sir. Fear not, I know my medicines well."

James did not care to argue. Suddenly, he wanted every precious minute of the sleep that was being offered to him. He was close to tears with the pain, so he took the medicine obediently and stretched out on the couch. He feared he would not be able to sleep because it hurt so much, but he quickly slipped off, even as Kenji was speaking to him.

When he woke, it was to an odd sound. Groggily, he wondered if the sound had been part of his dreams. He sat up, glancing around the room, trying to gather his bearing. He remembered that he was in the Lounge room. The room was cramped with plump furniture and a few long tables that allowed students to sit around and work on homework in groups. Most of the time, however, it was used as a Tea Room or a place wherein friends could gather during free periods to chat and hang around.

There was a movement by the doorway. Alarmed, James focused on the figure and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was just Kenji. True to his word, the Ravenclaw had stood watch. The way he was looking about cautiously told James that he had also heard the sound that had woken him from his rest.

James quickly took a look at the clock and did a double take. Three hours had passed since he had lain down. "Why did you not wake me?" he demanded.

Kenji shrugged. "Moody was not pleased to find that you were unwell," he answered. "I was on Moody's strict orders not to wake you unless absolutely necessary."

As if that reminded him, James gingerly probed at his forehead. The headache was gone for the most part; a dull throb remained as a ghost of the pain. Compared to earlier, he felt great. "I'm better now," he said, sitting up. He ignored his body's protest for more rest and stretched.

But if Kenji had not woken him, then who had?

As if to answer his unspoken question, they heard soft giggling.

"Whoever is in the room, you'd best show yourselves," James announced.

There was a brief silence and James sighed. "Right now," he ordered.

Almost simultaneously, two heads appeared from behind the couch on which he was sitting. Freckles and brown eyes adorned both their faces, and each was crowned with flaming red hair. They looked so alike that it was like seeing double.

Twins.

Children.

...Children?

James wondered if he were still dreaming.

It was Kenji that spoke though. "I dare say...those are Sir Williams' relations!"

"Sirs...Ted and George, wasn't it?" James asked, still in a daze.

One of the twins scowled. "It's '_Fred'_," he corrected, in his small voice. "Frederick Weasely, thank you very much!" and his tone was so insulted that James was obliged to bow his head in apology.

"I beg your pardon, Sir Frederick," James said. "But I will have you beg mine also: what are you doing at the Academy when you were ordered to flee?"

It was George who answered though. "They said all the women and children were to flee and the men were to follow afterward."

"And if they so desired, they could volunteer their services here as guards," Fred put in.

"So we stayed behind..."

"...to volunteer our services."

James could not help gawking. "Volunteer your services?" he repeated, incredulously. "You are no more than five years of age!"

Frederick shook his head, scowling once more. George did the motion at the same time and scowled in the same manner that James had a hard time believing the two were separate beings.

"I'll have you know that I am five and two years already!"

"Five and three years by this August!"

"And we are almost in Fourth Form!"

They were switching back and forth so fast that it was all Kenji and James could do to keep up with them.

Kenji asked, "And does your Professor know that you volunteered yourselves?"

This time, the twins glanced at each other before shaking their heads.

"Eight..." James said in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. His head was beginning to pound again. "You should be ashamed of yourselves! Professor Medy is probably beside herself with worry looking for you two!"

One of the twins started to say, "But...!"

"I shall hear no excuses!" James said, heatedly. "We have just declared war. We have more than enough to worry about without having two children to mind." He turned to Kenji. "Of all the times..."

"Calm down, sir," Kenji said. To the twins, he said, "You both ought to be punished, but that will have to wait. We are short in numbers as it is, but we will need to assign you a guard and have you go into hiding."

Fred and George ran around toward the front of the room, their hands clenched in determined little fists. "But we can help!"

"We don't want to hide!"

When James got to his feet, their protests died on their lips. Still, they stared up at him, defiantly. "And what will you _children_ do?" he demanded, stressing the word. It was bad enough to have to be responsible for the lives of his men. But to be responsible for the lives of these children...what had they gotten themselves into?

"We_ can _help!" George (or was it Fred?) said, confidently.

"Your numbers are short..."

"...but we have a plan!"

The way they complimented each others' sentences was quite astounding. If the situation wasn't as serious as it was, James would have liked to have a chat with the two just to hear them talk as one. He had to take a deep breath to calm himself down. "You must understand that this is not a game," he said, sternly. "Many lives are at stake. Your lives are at stake. It's best if you don't sully your hands whilst so young."

Fred (or was it George?) planted his hands on his hips. "We are the future. We want to have a say in how it's created."

"If we don't win, there will be no future," the other twin agreed.

"So, going into hiding would be useless."

The two nodded at each other, pleased at their sound theory.

Kenji shared a look with James and the two men began to laugh. "I can't win, can I?" James asked, between chuckles. And Kenji said, "Such thoughts, for such young minds!"

James knelt down so that he was at eye-level with the two of them. "I admire your courage," he said, putting his hands on both their shoulders. "Your willingness is appreciated. I'm certain that the future will hold much promise for the both of you. I can only hope that your generation will have the same mentality." He smiled sadly, remembering the times when he was a boy. He had never had to think of anything other than being carefree. He paused and then said, "Very well...today, you will be men grown. If we think of you as thus, you must act so." They stood a little straighter, and raised their chins a little higher at his words. "You will fall under command and you will obey everything that is asked of you."

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

James held up a finger, and their attention was riveted toward it. "Keep yourselves protected. A coward runs, but the wary run and survive. Be wary at all times. Running away so that you may do battle the next day when you are able, is nothing to be ashamed of." Passing on Professor Merrythought's words of advice was the least that he could do.

Solemnly, the twins nodded.

Satisfied that they had taken him seriously, James got to his feet. "Come on then," he sighed. To Kenji, he said, "I'm too lenient."

Kenji smiled, his almond-shaped eyes twinkling. "I'm certain Sir William will not be pleased to find out that his brothers have chosen to disobey the rules."

James flashed the Ravenclaw a grin. "Neither will their mother."

At that, the twins stopped in their tracks. As one they pleaded, "Oh, please don't tell Mum!"

**0-0-0-0-0**

Seth stumbled forward, falling face-first into the dirt next to the now-tidied campsite. Behind him walked a livid Sirius.

Peter was sitting against the trunk of a tree, looking like he had just woken up. His eyes snapped open, fully, however, when he saw Seth trip. Rick, who had just finished saddling the horses, turned in surprise. "Sir Sirius? What's going on?"

At the same time, Peter demanded, "Seth?"

Sirius had never looked so angry before. Even though Peter was not the object of his wrath, he was still frightened out of his wits. "Tell them!" Sirius commanded.

Before Seth could so much as get a word out of his mouth, Peter asked, "Tell us what? Sirius, what are you doing?"

Sirius jabbed his finger at Seth in emphasis. "Your friend here holds bad company. He isn't what he seems to be, just as I predicted."

Sir Rick led the horses toward them. "What is the meaning of this? Cousin, you look a sight!"

Sirius' clothes were sopping wet. Bruises from his skirmish with Kessick earlier were beginning to show on his face. His lower lip had split open during the fight, and was now swollen. His shirt and breeches were splotched with so much mud that it made the horses look immaculate in comparison.

"Were you two fighting?" Peter asked, coming to his feet.

"Not one another," Seth started to explain, but Sirius cut him off again.

"We are being followed. The mudblood nearly got himself killed."

Seth colored at the wording of choice.

Sirius glared at Peter. "He would have sold you out, just to save himself."

Seth looked to Peter as well, pleadingly. "Wait, that's not...I didn't..."

Peter's voice rang out over the clearing as he yelled, "Enough! If you don't start making sense and soon, I'll bash both your heads together so help me!"

Sirius' jaw almost dropped in his shock. Since when had Peter ever threatened anyone? This whole runaround was making everyone tense. He instead let out an impatient sigh, unconsciously copying James' favorite act of running his hand through his hair. "Seth has a few debts he has to pay back to a group of people he got himself tangled in. Since he wasn't able to deliver on time, they've come looking for him. Instead, he thought to run away and use us as a cover. He planned to use you to his advantage when the time came, but they found him first."

Peter turned stiffly toward Seth. "Is this...is this true?"

Seth squirmed. "Well...yes...and no!" he added, seeing the color drain from the young Prince's face. "I didn't mean to use you to my advantage by selling you out, or anything." When those words only served to upset Peter some more, he rushed add, "I had hoped you would help me avoid them. That's...that's all."

"Is it, now?" Sirius asked, angrily.

"Well...I mean..." the boy squirmed some more. "I did want to...ask you...to clear my name, seeing as how you are the Prince and..."

Peter shook his head. "You aren't making any sense and I'm ready to lose my patience," he said, hotly. "I am tired, and I am hungry. I wish a bath, and to get out of here if we really are being followed as you say." He looked down at Seth. "Now, tell me your story and quickly before I decide that I will leave you behind after all."

Seth seemed to sag a little because his shoulders slumped and he sat back on his heels. He sounded resigned when he spoke. "I wasn't lying when I told you that I am from the Bailey Household. My father really _was_ disowned after he had me. I was raised in an orphanage as I said. I'd always wanted to be reclaimed by the Bailey household if they would have me.

"A few years ago I was introduced to a group. They called themselves _Aurors_. I thought they were great – they lived independently and treated each other like family. They were rich and had everything that they wanted. They invited me to join the group, but in order to do so I had to prove myself to them.

"At first, they had me pick pockets. After a while, they promised me that if I brought them enough money, they would clear my name with the Bailey Household so that I could return there and take a place in the Noblemen lineage." He paused for a moment to wipe the back of his hand across his nose before continuing. "They...they told me it was costly – it was more than I could scrounge from picking pockets - so they had me break and enter into people's households and steal money that way. I hated doing it."

Seth stopped speaking then, staring at the dirt by his feet and dragging his right thumb through it, absently.

Peter leaned forward, his hands on his hips. "If you hated it so much, why didn't you stop?"

Seth let out a frustrated sigh. "It wasn't that easy. By the time I realized that their seemingly easy lives were a result of having children like me do their dirty work for them, I was in too deep." He glanced at Peter, helplessly. "One day, I tried to get out of the deal. They beat me nearly half to death."

He began to drag his thumb through the dirt again, letting his words sink in before saying softly, "I was brought to the same hospital where I met you. I thought they would leave me alone after that, but once I recovered they came back. They told me that they were still waiting for my payment. They warned me that if I didn't have the money by a certain date, they would kill me.

"So I planned to start stealing from the patients at the hospital."

Peter's face betrayed no hint of emotion when he asked, "So…you really weren't a volunteer?"

Even though it was a rhetorical question, Seth obliged him by shaking his head in response. "It was a cover up."

Rick and Sirius stood, unmoving, waiting for Peter to say something. "I...I'm sorry," Seth said. "I..."

"-What about the Russian Army, Seth? Would you have sold me out to them for a bag full of gold?" Peter demanded.

Seth shook his head. "I told you, I didn't want to live like that any more. Peter..."

At that, Sirius stepped forward. "That's '_Your Highness_'," he corrected, steely. He was about to say more, but Peter stopped him by holding up a hand.

"If what you told us is true, then that means there are other Aurors out there looking for you."

Seth gave Peter a pleading look. "I thought I could escape while the Army was causing so much commotion. I was positive Kessick's group would lose track of me. And even if they didn't, I thought that since I was friends with you, you could help me get away from them. And...and since you're the Prince, _you_ could clear my name with the Bailey Household. They would listen to you – you are after all, Royalty..." he trailed off, realizing that he had begun to babble.

Sirius moved to stand next to his friend, who was staring in disbelief at Seth. "I _told_ you he was up to no good," he growled. "I say we leave him here. We cannot afford to be caught up in his mess." When Peter did not respond, Sirius demanded, "My lord?"

"We must take him along," Sir Rick countered. "It's as I said before: if we leave him behind, he will betray us not only to the Army, but to the Aurors as well."

Seth protested, "No, I would never - "

"-Enough!" Peter's command made all of them fall silent. He was still staring hotly at Seth. "Let us pack our things and leave. We don't have time to stand around and argue like this. It leaves us open and vulnerable to attack."

Sirius could not believe his ears. "Peter, you can't possibly mean to bring him with us!"

"I do." His voice turned to ice, when he spoke to Seth. "I will give your story the benefit of the doubt. However, I will not hesitate to be merciful if I find you have lied to me again." He gestured to Rick, who understood his meaning and clapped a fist to his heart as soldiers were known to do when given a task from their commanders.

Peter turned away from them, but not before Sirius saw the crushed expression on the boy's face. "The sooner we reach the Academy the better. Let's move out."

**0-0-0-0-0**

"What do you suppose is going on?" Lily asked, looking around with a frown.

Beside her were Pavel and Celena, the two having been her companions for the majority of the trek.

The Academy residents had only started to move forward again at an inching pace. Poor Remus was trying to scout and lead at the same time. He had confessed that beyond the initial shelter that they had rested in, he knew no more of the terrain ahead. Thus, their group stopped often. This time, though, their halt was longer than normal.

"Perhaps we have been discovered?" Celena looked about, nervously.

Pavel rolled his eyes at her pessimism. There was no doubt the Lady was beautiful, but he found her negative attitude rather unattractive. In fact, compared to Lily, he found her dull. He knew Celena didn't like him, and he couldn't help but reciprocate the feeling. Knowing it would make Lily feel very uncomfortable, he tried his best to be as friendly to the woman as possible. "Perhaps Sir Remus and his men are just having a hard time finding a safe passage."

Lily cast him a grateful smile. "I guess I'd better go and see what the reports are. I'll be right back." Without waiting for a response from either of them, she hurried off, weaving her way through the groups of students, looking for her fellow Elites.

It was hard work getting such a large amount of people to cooperate. So far, they were doing well, but another day had almost gone by and it was frustrating that they were not able to cover as much ground as they had hoped.

She found Lorien and Dane, who were having a discussion with Severus and a few Professors. Lucius was not present. She didn't get a chance to ponder on that because as soon as the group saw her, they bowed as one in greeting. Lily returned it, automatically, but without as much grace.

"We were just talking about arrangements while we wait," Severus informed her, before she could ask.

She didn't want to voice her fears that Remus and his group may have gotten lost and injured because there were so many ears listening in on their conversation. Instead, she ventured, "I hope everything is okay…"

"I'm certain they're fine, my Lady," Dane said, with a nod of his head. "As much as I would like to get going, it's better if we take things slowly – it will do us no good if we don't scout the terrain in front of us properly.

"If there is anything to worry about, it's that we won't be able to bring the carts with us the whole way," Dane said. "They're too big and bulky, and the passage we have been traveling seems to be getting narrower…"

Each cart was pushed by a group of six men. After every half hour, the group would switch with another assigned group, ensuring everyone took part in the labor. Even the women had volunteered to help.

Professor Laarni said, "We could split the supplies amongst the faculty and students. There are enough of us so that one person would not be overly burdened…"

Severus grimaced at the suggestion. "If we disperse them in such a way, it would be very difficult to keep an accurate track of our resources, Professor."

Grimly, Dane said, "It may be our only way. If worse comes to worse, we can assign volunteers certain provisions and they can directly report to you so that you may keep your records up to date."

"I'll help," Lily offered. "If we are able to keep tabs on a group each, there's less of a chance that things will go missing."

"We shall help keep tabs also," Professor Binns said, speaking on behalf of the other instructors who were included in the conversation.

They were in the middle of debating the best way to divide the supplies up when shouts caused all of them to pause and look up. Sir Joseph informed them, "The scouts have returned! Sir Remus has some news."

Sure enough, the man was jogging toward them. The look on his face caused a bolt of panic to run through Lily. Sure enough, his news was not good. "We're in trouble," he told them, skipping formalities and courtesies all together.

"Troops?" Lucius' sudden presence made everyone jump.

Remus shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "We've pushed ahead but no matter what direction we go, we're blocked."

Lorien echoed, "Blocked?"

This time, Remus nodded. "There's no where to go – we've reached a dead end!"

**To Be Continued…

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**

**AN:** Well, there you have it: Seth's true objectives, trouble and the Weasely twins. I hope you enjoyed. Again, I apologize for my delay in updating. Please review and let me know your thoughts. Here's to hoping I'll have inspiration for the next chapter!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	22. In the Darkness of the Night

**OPTIVUS by P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: the Standard Disclaim applies. All original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

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_

**AN:** Wow. I reached 700 reviews! I'm very happy! Thanks everyone! I've been more than a little swamped lately. My one wish right now would be to be able to split myself into four pieces just so that everything could get done much faster. (That, or have more hours in a day to accomplish things!) Okay, so I lied: I'd like a vacation, too. Sadly, there's no time for even that. In any case, I've made room on my schedule to get this chapter written. Without further ado,

Onwards.

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_Previously: _

_They were in the middle of debating the best way to divide the supplies up when shouts caused all of them to pause and look up. Sir Joseph informed them, "The scouts have returned! Sir Remus has some news."_

_Sure enough, the man was jogging toward them. The look on his face caused a bolt of panic to run through Lily. Sure enough, his news was not good. "We're in trouble," he told them, skipping formalities and courtesies all together._

_"Troops?" Lucius' sudden presence made everyone jump._

_Remus shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "We've pushed ahead but no matter what direction we go, we're blocked."_

_Lorien echoed, "Blocked?"_

_This time, Remus nodded. "There's no where to go – we've reached a dead end!"

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_

**Chapter 22**

**- In the Darkness of the Night -**

William strode out of the Lounge, the twins at his heels looking miserable. He met James and Kenji who were standing by the foyer's entrance, waiting for him. The rays from the setting sun lit the spiral staircase within in a majestic manner, making the marble steps seem to sparkle. The stone sculptures of winged cherubim and seraphim that were carved above the fluted archways in the ceiling seemed to be trying to lean down to touch the beams of light. A few soldiers turned to look at the magnificent sight as if to drink in as much beauty before the grisliness of war began.

"I must beg pardons on their behalf," William said, for the umpteenth time. "I will take full responsibility for them."

Under his grim glare, his brothers squirmed uncomfortably and looked down at their feet. The way one of them morosely rubbed at his bottom told James and Kenji that they had not simply received a scolding.

They turned as one when Moody's voice suddenly interrupted them. "Are we so desperate as to enlist the help of youngsters?"

James grit his teeth against making a smart reply and had to remind himself that Moody loved to verbally jab him just for fun. He wasn't about to rise up to the older man's expectation. Instead, he shrugged and said, "They have a mind to help. I'm willing to listen to their suggestions."

"Let's hear them then," Moody said, and James could hear the hint of sarcasm in the man's enthusiastic tone. From the scowls on the twins' faces, he could tell that it wasn't lost to the children, either.

Perceptive.

Glancing once at his older brother, Fred stepped forward. "We suggest you split your army in half. Once the soldiers have been lured in, your other half can come from behind and pinch them right in the middle – they'll have no where to run."

A classic battle plan.

At the beginning of the struggle, James would have disregarded the idea entirely, what with their numbers being so uneven. Now, the plan, as simple as it was, seemed intriguing. Still, there were flaws in the system…

"Sound," Moody said, beating James to the punch, "but a smart leader knows not to send his men in all at once. With the way Toma's been playing his troops cautiously, I stand confident in saying that they are going to split their troops as well in hopes to find several ways into the Castle."

Fred did not back down. "So, we can post a few men at each entrance as a guard."

Kenji drew his thumb and his index finger down the sides of his chin. "We are back at square one: we don't have enough troops to guard each entrance to the Castle."

George's grin matched Fred's. "The enemy doesn't know that. Maybe they will get worried when they see people guarding the entrance and they won't try to get in that way."

"If the world revolved around our wishes, child, I would have both legs and rule the world," Moody told him, giving him a grim smile, "but unfortunately, I have to walk with a cane."

The twins were not able to suppress their shudders as their eyes were involuntarily trained toward his wooden leg.

James could not hold his tongue any longer. "It is a good strategy," he told them, trying not to sound placating. "I'm afraid that it's a bit…lacking, though." He turned his head slightly toward Moody. "If you've got any more ideas, I'd be most grateful."

"I'd wager as much," Moody huffed and James sighed inwardly at his satisfied tone. "We've taken some gunpowder from most of the weapons and we are planning on setting up small explosives throughout the central gardens and back gardens as a deterrent. As for our advantage, it's best to note that we are on higher ground than our enemy. It buys us some time to fall back and coordinate ourselves depending on the strategy they use," he nodded toward the ceiling in indication as he spoke.

William said wistfully, "If only we could go on the pretense of ushering them in again as we did the first time around."

Everyone nodded their agreements, but they each knew that it would not work twice.

They all turned to the sound of running footsteps that belonged to Sir Francis. The man slid to a halt at seeing them. "Reports have come in," he announced, through labored breaths. "The scouts say that the remaining forces within Hogsmeade are divided in their decision to attack the Academy. It seems our Russian friends are more than a little superstitious – they believe the Academy is being haunted by those that were murdered here a few months back. The way a large portion of their men disappeared just today makes them all the more cautious."

James could have hugged the man at the news were he within easy reach. Once again, Moody beat him to the punch by asking, "What have the scouts found out about their tactics?"

"If they are going to attack, it will be by stealth in much the same fashion as they did in the past," Francis said, confidently. "I'm willing to bet they will come in the night or early morning to try to catch us off-guard."

James mulled it over in his mind's eye. If they could somehow lure the soldiers in through a specific entry, the twins' strategy would work like a charm. He liked Moody's idea of hiding explosives in the ground, but it could work to their disadvantage as well. The explosives would not be able to discern friend from foe. There had to be another way to take advantage of their higher ground.

He didn't notice that he had absently wandered toward the windows, nor did he notice the six pairs of eyes that were watching him, waiting for him to give his orders.

Right.

He was the leader now.

He surveyed the land surrounding the castle walls. It would be ideal if they could meet the enemy at the portcullis and stop them from getting any further.

His gaze was drawn to the surrounding forests. The enemy would most definitely use them as cover in their stealth operation. Just when he thought things were getting easier, they just became more complicated. _One thing at a time_, he told himself, running his fingers through his hair before turning to face his friends.

"Moody, if we plant those explosives in the ground, you must make sure our men mark them out. We don't want any unneeded accidents." That would also make it easier to uproot any remaining explosives after the battle, when the students returned. He didn't want any innocents injured.

Moody nodded, his glass eye swaying back and forth when he did so.

"Sir Francis, tell the scouts to spread perimeter along the outer walls of the Academy. I want to keep an eye on the forest. I want to be ready. Have signals go up if there is any suspicious movement." Francis straightened from his half-crouch and rushed off to do as he was bid.

"Sir William, take your team and search the Gymnasium for the quivers and bows. Moody's right: we have the high ground and we will use it to our advantage. I will post archers on the walls." He motioned for Kenji to go with him.

"What about us, Sir James?" George asked. "What would you ask of us?"

James wanted to tell them to stay out of the way, but from their hopeful gazes, he didn't have the heart to. He put a finger to his lip as he thought of something useful that they could do that would not involve getting them hurt but at the same time, would keep them busy. All three of them jumped when Moody's cane smacked against a body of armor and the axe handle it was carrying fell with a clatter to the floor.

The elder man grunted. "I must be getting on in weight if I can't avoid bumping into walls."

His statement caused the twins to giggle, but James did not find the humor in it. His eyes grew wide when he struck upon a realization. Without knowing it, Moody had given him the solution that he needed. "Moody, one more thing: I want to force the Russian Army to try and enter through certain passageways. You spoke of keeping the enemy away from certain grounds. Can you concentrate on putting those explosives near all the other entrances, to deter them? They will have no choice but to go through the openings we direct them to and once there," he opened his palm and clenched it into a fist, "we will pick them off, one by one."

"Steering the enemy, are you?" Moody sounded impressed. "It will take more than simple explosions in the ground to make them dance to your tune."

"If fear is what keeps them hesitant, I will use that to my advantage," James said as he glanced down the hallway at the still bodies of armor.

He turned to the twins. "Find Sir Kingsley and have him and his group start gathering all the suits of armor. Post generous amounts of them by the other entrances."

Fred and George exchanged glances with each other before one of them asked, "Sir James, do you mean they are to put the armor _on_?"

James shook his head and the twins stared at him as if he'd gone mad. The second one pointed out, "But…those suits of armor are all empty…"

For the first time in days, James felt optimistic and a grin spread across his face. "The Russians don't know that, do they?" What the Russians would see were heavily guarded entrances. It looked like James didn't have to post very many of his men by them after all; a handful at each decoy entrance would be more than enough for his plan.

"Once we lure them into our chosen passageways, we can carry out the pincer strategy." He lifted his clenched fist in emphasis. "Whoever our arrows do not get, our swords will."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Night fell upon them much faster than they had anticipated. Luckily, by that time, everyone had bedded down and some were already fast asleep. The men who had watch duty sat by the fires, talking in low voices.

Amongst them, was Remus, and for what felt like the thousandth time, he checked his compass. How he wished he had paid more attention to his father's lectures about being familiar with the terrain of the land! If he led the group too east, they might miss his Hold all together. He worried that they were going in circles.

It had been agreed that they would travel above ground again and make their way to his Hold by using the forest as a cover. They had had to take apart the wagons and, as discussed, had split the provisions equally amongst all the students. Despite the fact that everyone was exhausted, they had agreed to the task. Remus thought that the renewed spring in their step was due to the fact that they were relieved to be away from the sewers.

It was easier to travel, now. The only problem was keeping hidden: their numbers made it impossible to cover their tracks and to keep quiet as they pressed forward. All the same, they seemed to be making more progress and that in itself filled him with hope.

He tossed a twig that he was absently twirling in his other hand into the fire before standing up. "Where are you going?" Sir Kelvin, from the House Hufflepuff, asked him, also rising to his feet.

"I'm thinking to go scouting again," Remus replied. "I should be back before third watch – it's best to know where we are going to be headed in the morning."

"You're not going to get much ground covered in so short a time," Kelvin said. "At least, not by yourself. Let me go with you."

Remus appraised him quickly before nodding once. So far, Kelvin had proven to be adept at scouting. He had picked up on the skill of marking, and although he wasn't very experienced at it, he was the best of all the scouts that came out with him whenever it was time to survey the unknown land.

Three other men of their scouting team scrambled to their feet when they saw Remus and Kelvin starting to make their way out of their crudely set up camp. They hurried to catch up and before Remus could tell them that they should get rest, Sir Tristan stubbornly said, "We are a team, remember? If – and heaven forbid - something should happen to you, you will need someone to lead the group in the right direction."

"You said yourself that the forest holds many dangers at night," Sir Felix, a man who had just turned of age, added. Beside him, Sir Artemis nodded, fervently.

Knowing that he would not be able to convince them to stay behind, Remus gestured for them to follow, resigned. "Let's make this quick, then," he said, grimly. "Keep close and stay quiet. We don't want any animals attacking us. Make sure you keep your flashlights on the floor as much as possible. Some animals might perceive it as a threat. If the Russian army has made camp in the forest, we don't want them to see our lights, either." He informed the Headmaster of their plans before leading them out of camp, switching on his flashlight. He began to inspect the ground and their surroundings, the other scouts following his example suite, something Remus was proud to note they had become accustomed to doing.

The sound of crickets had never seemed so loud before. He treaded his ground carefully, trying to avoid stepping on any twigs or things that would startle dangerous animals out of their slumber. As if reading his mind, Sir Tristan pulled his sword free from its scabbard. Remus wished he could do the same, but he dared not, preferring to keep an eye on his compass which he was gripping with his other hand. He made a mental note of small landmarks so that he would be able to trace his steps back to the camp.

With a finger, he reminded his group to stay silent by putting it to his lips. The other four nodded in understanding and began to sweep out, keeping their flashlight beams toward the ground as they had been instructed to do.

In the eerie silence of the night, the scouts found themselves jumping at every rustle from leaves and the occasional cry of a night predator when it found its prey. They were reminded of the fact that in the forest, they were vulnerable and weak.

This was not their territory.

The darkness was heavy and ominous, their flashlights not doing much to penetrate it for more than a foot ahead of them. As was the case, the going was slow, the members of their small squad keeping close to one another – it wouldn't do to get lost.

Keeping an eye on the small needle that pointed their way, Remus led them deeper, relying on Kelvin to mark their road so that in the morning, they could retrace their steps.

When they reached a river, Remus felt like he had struck gold. Water rations were getting low and he was certain the students would appreciate having something fresh to drink. He swept his flashlight back and forth by the riverbank to check what direction it was running in. It seemed to be leading east, which was the opposite direction he wanted to be going in, but maybe it would branch off to the west at some point. In any case, he deemed it would be smarter to stick by the river for a while.

He led the scouts forward again, walking along the banks, reminding them to mark as they went.

He almost lost track of time, as concentrated as he was. It was only when he heard one of the scouts behind him yawn did he realize that third watch was going to start soon. The Headmaster expected them back. Reluctantly, he turned and announced, "We've gone pretty far. That is enough for tonight, I suppose."

"Not far enough," groaned Artemis. "A few hours march at most…"

"That's plenty," Remus said, with a shake of his head. "In the darkness, we could not have hoped for more. In the morning, we shall get further. In the meantime, we've found running water and that is what is most important. I'm afraid, gentlemen, that I have deprived you of your hours of sleep. I suggest we head back before the camp decides we have gone missing."

With that, the scouts obediently fell into line behind him as he made to lead the way back. They had gone no more than a few meters when they heard a sound behind them that made them all freeze.

A voice.

"Look! Tracks!" It cried, in an urgent hiss.

The scouts exchanged terrified glances with one another and scowling, Remus gestured for them to switch off their flashlights and stay quiet. He and the others crouched down, not daring to move forward lest they attract attention to themselves. His fingers fumbled to find his sword and pull it free slowly.

They held their breaths when they saw a man appear from the brush, bending down to inspect something on the ground. Inwardly Remus cursed himself for being careless – he had not been scrupulous enough. His excitement at finding water had made him forget all about covering their tracks. "There's more than one person," the man pointed out. "Look at all those prints!"

Remus squinted into the darkness, his heart hammering so hard that he was certain that it would leave a bruise against his ribcage. At this rate, they'd all be found and there was no where to run.

"Tracks? Here?" Another voice demanded. It sounded strangely familiar. So familiar, in fact, that Remus snapped his head in its direction.

A second figure appeared from the brush to join the first and examine the finding. "This is bad. I had hoped we were the only ones using the forest," he said. "From the look of these tracks, they're fresh." They began to consult one another in whispers so that no more of their conversation could be distinguishable.

Throwing caution to the winds, Remus came to his feet slowly. Shrugging off hands that tried to hold him back, he took a step toward the voices. He prayed that he wasn't wrong…his heart doubled its already thrumming speed. "…Sirius? Sirius, is that you?"

There was a brief second of confused silence before an answer. "Dear spirits…Remus?"

Forgetting the fact that they were on a covert mission, Remus let out a yelp of joy, his fears disappearing in the face of relief as he rushed forward. "Sirius! I knew it was you!"

Sirius had only just managed to get to his feet before his friend nearly knocked him back down in his excitement. Remus wrapped him in a one-arm embrace. "Easy," Sirius chuckled, "you're like to slice me with your sword!"

Remus checked himself, realizing that he had indeed forgotten to sheathe his sword and pulled back. "You gave us a scare!"

"Likewise," Sirius responded, a grin adorning his handsome face. "Remus, what on earth are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Remus said. From where he was standing, he could make out four huge horses grazing close by. A figure stood by them, watching the exchange between the men. "Peter?" he asked, hopefully.

"Peter's gone to find some firewood," Sirius supplied. "That is a…friend of his."

"What of his condition?" Remus pressed, choosing not to dwell on that topic tangent.

"He's well," Sirius assured him. "He'll be relieved to see you all. He's been anxious to deliver a message to the Academy to the point that he's been pushing himself too hard."

Head spinning, Remus repeated, "A message to the Academy?"

It was Rick who answered, however. "It's a rather long story."

Seeming to come to their senses, both Sirius and Remus squirmed in embarrassment. "Dear me, where have my manners gone? Remus, this is my cousin, Sir Rick. I trust you remember him?"

Remus nodded and took the elder man's hand heartily. "Well met, well met! Are we ever glad to see you! We thought you were - "

"-the Russian Army?" Rick finished, knowingly.

"They're everywhere," Remus said, nodding. "We've had to evacuate the students as they've taken over the major villages surrounding the school. James had a hunch that it was only going to be a matter of time before they turned their eyes upon the Academy. What about you? What are you doing here?" Remus asked.

Sirius gestured behind him, vaguely. "We came across a letter written by Her Majesty, urging the students of the Academy to flee. We were in an awful rush to deliver said message but it seems that you are already well aware of the danger. It's good to know that James is still one step ahead."

Remus glanced into the gloom, squinting again in hopes to see if Peter was about but having little luck. "You can rest easy," he told Sirius. "Our group has set up camp a couple of hours away from here. We were just returning," he motioned his scouting group forward and Sirius acknowledged the men with a bow of his head. "We are hoping to seek shelter at my Hold!"

Sirius glanced at Rick and said, "It seems you are one step ahead as well. We bumped into your father who instructed us to tell you to flee to the hills before you make your way to the Hold. He was to send us word after he re-establishes loyalties."

"Re-establishes loyalties?" Remus repeated. "What do you mean? My father's men are faithful to the Crown."

"Too faithful," Rick said, grimly. "They have been split apart and are forced by Toma's hand by penalty of the King's death. Sir Peter has ordered that the King's Army fight on despite that fact."

It was as though Remus lost feeling in his legs. "Impossible," he whispered, shaking his head. "Peter would never…"

"-I have."

Involuntarily, Remus jumped at the sound of Peter's voice that came from beside him. The boy had seemed to materialize out of thin air. "Please believe me when I say I had no choice. I do not want the kingdom to be run on strings."

Remus managed to smile, and he reached out to tousle Peter's hair. The boy seemed thinner, his small eyes bigger and he was hunched slightly at the shoulders. Remus wagered it was not because of the cold. In the past months that they had been separated, Peter had grown slightly. Remus thought he looked miserable. "It is good to know that we will have a leader who is no coward," he said, stoutly. "You look well, my lord. We've missed you fiercely."

That got the desired effect, because Peter's face melted into the shy grin that Remus remembered so well. "I cannot wait to get back home."

The joy Remus felt at seeing his friends again dimmed, but he tried his best not to let it show. "Come with us to the camp," he suggested. "There is much to talk about."

Peter turned eagerly to secure his belongings, Rick behind him laughing at the way the boy almost tripped in his excitement. As soon as they were out of earshot, Remus' smile dropped and Sirius nudged him by the shoulder. "All right sir, out with it: you make for a terrible liar."

"We have to hurry, Sirius: I head to my Hold not just for safety, but for reinforcements." His voice betrayed the panic he felt inside as he stared off after Peter's buoyant figure. "I fear that there will be no home to go back to."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Another clipped cry rang out over the courtyard as yet another victim fell to the explosives that had been shallowly dug under the earth. The flowers that had been meticulously planted were now all uprooted, trampled by hundreds of pairs of feet as they charged across the terrain with the intent to destroy the Castle walls beyond.

Amos stepped back from the railing, eyes wide as he called, "Sir James! It worked! It seems they are peeling off toward the Main Entrance!"

James, who was receiving similar reports from Fred and George, raised his hand in acknowledgement. With so short a time to prepare, he was glad that their ruse was working. How long it would continue to do so, however, was something he wasn't so sure of. "Concentrate the archers to the North balconies," he ordered. "I want those men cut down before they can even reach the inner Gardens!" He gestured with his sword at his group. "The rest of you, follow me. We need to get into position. We dare not let them into the Castle or all our effort will have been in vain!"

Moody had split them into smaller sections, positioning them strategically throughout the most vulnerable parts of the Castle. The groups consisted of fifteen men each, spread apart in such a way that their force seemed more than it actually was. Three groups were to support each other in case of attack, rotating so that each man had a chance to rest if possible.

Kingsley chuckled, his deep voice laced with the headiness of trepidation that was most likely a feeling shared by the others. "Even though you insist you are no leader, Sir James, you sure sound like one."

In answer, James grimaced. Amos clapped him on the back and said, "It is habit, most like! He will always be an Elite at heart!"

If Moody were around, he'd no doubt be grinning at his discomfort. James felt himself blush just at the thought. Chagrined, he realized that the man was able to nettle him even without being in his presence. "If I don't give the orders, no one will," he protested. He knew no one else wanted to – being blamed for failure was something everyone steered clear of.

They cut through the Front Hall, stepping over the rubble and carefully weaving through the large chunks of debris that had not been cleared away. Another group rushed past, no doubt hurrying to get to their designated positions.

Despite the situation, everyone was remaining calm and collected; James expected Moody did not tolerate anything less from his troops. He admired how professional they all seemed to be. They moved in a steady, precise manner that spoke of confidence. Gathering his bearing, James held his head up and prayed silently that they would not fail.

They couldn't afford to.

By the time they reached the Entrance Doors, James felt as though he were detached from his body, seeing things from far away. From where they stood, they could clearly see the numbers of Russian soldiers, running into their line of sight. The air whistled with arrows as the archers up above and the explosives down below forced the men into taking the only safe passage they could find.

Hunkered down along with the rest of his men, he could feel the breath of one of the soldiers at his neck as the man whispered, "Here they come…"

They watched as the enemy ran straight for them, eager to get away from the deadly rain of arrows. Though many of the arrows were falling wide of their shots, men were falling under them.

"Don't hold back," James told his group, eyes never leaving the enemy. "Don't let anyone through."

"Yes, sir!" they chorused, and the statement made his very bones thrum with anticipation. He thought he might be sick as his mind fought to scatter into a million different places, to answer a million different questions.

_Focus,_ he chided himself.

Fears could wait.

The aftermath could wait.

Distantly, he heard the second and third group get into position behind them, the clicks to their guns audible, but yet strangely, silent.

The picture he was seeing suddenly became brighter, more vivid, as the world came back into startling clarity. He could hear his ragged breathing, almost as though he had run a marathon. This he hurriedly tried to calm, to bring under control. _On a battlefield, all that matters are the opponents you face_, Professor Merrythought's voice reminded him, gently in a ghost of a whisper from the corner of his mind.

His hand pulled his sword free, smoothly, with practiced ease. In that moment, he felt safer, more secure.

This was his domain.

The enemy crashed upon them as waves against rocks. The sound of guns being fired all at once from the first group behind him nearly rendered James deaf. In fact, he wasn't so sure they hadn't – for a moment he felt horribly off balance and disoriented. The onrush of soldiers drew back, screeching in pain and surprise, some of them stumbling and falling, never to get up again. Once more, another volley of gunshots rang out, this time from the second group. James managed to cover his ears, but the action did not do much to muffle the sound. It was just as bone-jarring as the first time around. The spray of blood was shocking.

His body reacted automatically when a soldier got close enough. Without thinking, his hand brought his sword up and around, cutting through sinew and bone. The body slipped away, lifeless and before it could even touch the floor, another one was upon him.

After his fifth kill, he pushed back, knowing the enemy was recovering from their shock. "Spread out!" he screamed. "Spread out into formation!"

Sure enough, some of the soldiers who had their guns ready began shooting, and this time, the cries came from James' men.

Seeing a gun trained on him, James ducked and rolled forward, sword flashing out and catching the soldier's legs. Crumpling on the floor with a scream, the soldier's second gun shot missed completely, and fluidly, James came to his feet, kicking the gun out of the man's hand. He did not look into the man's eyes as he stabbed his sword downward through the man's throat.

Compassion on this battlefield was not going to be offered unless the enemy pleaded surrender.

He heard Kingsley calling his name and he spun quickly to see the man waving at him. Realizing what he wanted, James called the order. "Switch! Switch!"

The second group rushed forward and his segment gratefully moved back. Amos was pulling a cursing Slytherin along with him and Kingsley bent to help him with the task. "Sir Egan was shot," the former Elite said. "And Sir Tristan was killed."

"Damn it," James hissed. He felt a pang of guilt at the casualty. The look on Amos' face doubled it – Tristan had been a fellow Housemate of his. "I'm sorry," he offered.

Amos set his jaw, grimly. "I'm sure his death won't be the last, tonight."

"Don't say such things," Kingsley admonished. "We will pull through this." Already the elder man was putting a makeshift bandage over Egan's wound. "The bullet didn't lodge, thank heavens, but it will still hurt something awful." Everyone winced at Egan's yell when Kingsley drew the knot down tight. He bent and said some words of comfort to the man.

James absently flicked the blood off his sword and reached into his pocket to retrieve the gun that he had been given. Unlike Sirius who was good at sports that required range aim, James did not have such a talent. The weight was unfamiliar in the palm of his hand. Moody had been adamant that they fight back on the enemy's level and made use of the weapons that had been taken from them. "Come on," he said, "we've got to cover the second group."

He and Amos left Kingsley with Egan and rejoined their party. He was glad to see that the rest of them were not injured and still steady enough to continue. It was to be expected, he supposed: they were fighting for their lives. He was certain the Russians would not show them any mercy if they got through.

The battle seemed to be in the students' favor. So far, Moody's plan of rotating groups seemed to be working. There was a mass of dead bodies at the mouth of the entrance but that did not seem to deter those soldiers who were aiming to charge past their lines of defense. It got to the point where they could not even get to the door and whoever was left standing outside was killed quickly by gunshots or by the arrows overhead.

It was a slaughter.

That did not go to say that James' side did not incur losses. In fact, their groups got smaller and smaller as people got hurt and were pulled back to safety. Reports spilled in about other sections in the Castle having trouble keeping the enemy out. The good news was that despite the struggle, all the positions were holding their ground.

His hopes went up when he heard news that the Russian troops were retreating. That did not let him relax, however. Instead, he ordered one of his men to go find some reinforcements if there were any to be had.

He had just exchanged his empty gun for a reloaded one when one of the twins charged into his zone. "Mercy!" James cried, alarmed. "Sir Frederick, what are you doing here? This place is too dangerous!"

"I'm Gregory," the boy said, off-handedly, waving his hand at the seemingly unimportant information. He was winded and it took him a moment to gather his breath. "I left my post on the North Ramparts overhead on Sir Mathias' orders. He told me to report to you immediately."

James glanced over his shoulder at the battle going on behind him before turning back to George. He had hoped to keep the children from the display of violence and far away from the battle as possible. Sir William would skin him alive if one of his brothers got hurt. He ran his free hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. "All right, out with it, then."

George straightened slightly, keeping his eyes focused on James. "The Russians have called for reinforcements, sir. They're coming in from Hogsmeade Village by the hundreds."

James stared at him, wondering if he had heard correctly. By the _hundreds_? He swore beneath his breath and he bolted from the room to see for himself. Behind him, George called out, trying to keep up with his long strides with his little legs.

If what he said was true, then the Academy would not last the night. His mind raced with the different strategies they could use with what little resources they had left. He was fairly certain half his men were incapable of putting up much more of a resistance. He did not even want to think about how many of them were slain.

He hurried up the two flights of stairs to where Mathias was stationed, flying past other scenes of battle. Through the large arched windows, he could see that the back gardens were littered with the bodies of Russian soldiers. They dotted the landscape like ugly patches of untilled earth, marring the perfection that the school always managed to portray. H.W. Academy was known for the beauty of its gardens. Professor Sprout would likely have a heart attack at seeing all her precious work go to waste. From their positions on the ground, they stared back at him with glassy, unseeing eyes.

One more thing that would plague his nightmares.

Mathias, sporting the colors of House Slytherin, waved him over urgently and pointed down over the rampart to the distance below. James pushed past the others who crowded the balcony and squinted in the distance.

Sure enough, as the report said, the horizon where the sun would soon begin to rise was dotted with masses that were spilling in from Hogsmeade village.

Good lord.

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck to nestle between his shoulder blades as the night rang out with their war cries.

_Good lord…_

**To Be Continued…

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**

**AN:** I can't believe the year is almost finished! I hope to get another chapter out before the end of the year, but seeing as how finals are just around the corner, I don't know how feasible that will be. In any case, I hope you enjoyed this installment. Again, thanks for reviewing and leaving me your encouragement. It means the world. Until the next update,

-P.P.V.V.


	23. Making Choices

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

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_

**AN:** Hello, all. Thanks for sticking around and waiting the ridiculously long periods between each chapter. I can't tell you how much your reviews and comments are appreciated. They truly are my inspiration. So, to you, my readers, I give you the next chapter. Finally.

Onward.

* * *

_Previously: _

_"The Russians have called for reinforcements, sir. They're coming in from Hogsmeade Village by the hundreds," George reported. _

_James stared at him, wondering if he had heard correctly. By the __hundreds__? He swore beneath his breath and he bolted from the room to see for himself. Behind him, George called out, trying to keep up with his long strides with his little legs._

_James pushed past the others who crowded the balcony and squinted in the distance._

_Sure enough, as the report said, the horizon where the sun would soon begin to rise was dotted with masses that were spilling in from Hogsmeade village._

_Good lord.

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_

**Chapter 23**

**- Making Choices -**

"Sir James, what do we do?" Mathias demanded.

James opened his mouth, his mind reeling with the hopelessness of the situation. What could he say? Words of valiance and assurance would only seem like pleas.

_Cowards run, but the wary run and survive. _

Even in death, Professor Merrythought was an ever-present conscience, there to guide him. There to remind him. There to reprimand him.

He'd condemned everyone to their deaths.

James suddenly felt very stupid and vulnerable.

"We…must - "

"- Sir James, look!" George's cry cut him off, quite rudely. The boy had flung himself against the railing, climbing the stones nimbly, pointing.

Again, James turned his eyes to the distance below. Torches lit the twilight and the masses had come to a halt outside the Castle gates.

Another soldier asked, "Are they going to attack?"

There was a still moment and James held his breath, waiting for the crowd to surge forward; to hear their battle cries as they laid siege to the Academy that he had fought so hard to protect.

If they were going to attack, he wouldn't wait around for it.

He slowly raised his hand in a signal to retreat. Yes, if they retreated now, there would still be time to get everyone to the underground passageways. Maybe they'd even get a good start to the sewers before the school went up in flames.

A deafening roar shook the air, and the gates were pushed open and the masses spilled through. James completed his signal, keeping an eye on the enemy. Obediently, the troops under his command fell back and he turned to go with them, the death cries behind him making his hair stand on end and a tremor run down his spine.

He reached out to grab Mathias' arm. "Spread the word and inform all scouts: we must regroup and try to get as many people into the underground as possible." He had to yell to be heard. It was his last resort and their only hope of survival.

With a curt nod, Mathias did not question his orders and turned to obey them. He stopped when he realized that George was still on the rampart. He met James' eyes and jabbed his finger at the boy before running off to deliver the message.

Spinning around, James saw George's small body clinging to the balcony, peering down at the masses below. With a growl, he trotted back onto the rampart and snagged the child's shirt, prying him away from the balcony stones.

George struggled against him. "Wait! Wait! Don't!"

Unable to hold the child and keep his sword clear, James was obliged to let him go. "Sir, I _must_ insist you - "

For the second time that day, George cut in. "They're not attacking us!"

Letting out a frustrated breath, James tried to keep his cool. He grabbed hold of George's arm again. "What in heaven's name are you talking about?"

"See for yourself!" The child declared, freeing himself from James' grip and scrambling back up the stones. "Those reinforcements…it looks like they're attacking the Russian soldiers!"

And indeed, it was true. When James came to peer down into at the foray, he saw that the Russians were being cornered by the newcomers. But if they weren't reinforcements for the enemy…who were they?

The sound of gunshots and screaming suddenly stopped as though the troops that James had left downstairs had come to the same realization.

He hadn't even noticed that the group that he had tried to usher out had come right back in to see what was going on.

Someone asked, "Have the Russians surrendered?" while another wondered at the same time, "Have _we _surrendered?"

Pushing himself away from the scene, James ran down the stairs again in search of Moody. His mind raced to keep up with his whirling thoughts, the idea that the Russian Army would turn against each other at the forefront. Was it too much to hope that it was possible?

That it was happening?

When he reached the first floor again, he collided with Sir Crabbe. Being bigger than him in both weight and stature, James ended up stumbling backward and ultimately falling down into a disgraceful heap. It didn't help that his added momentum did not stop him but rather added to his humiliation.

Not one for being quick, Crabbe took a second to gape down at him before bending over to offer him a helping hand up. James was tempted not to take it on principle that he did not really like the man, but he put his pride away and accepted it. "Have you seen Moody?" he asked.

"I'd wager he's still where he stationed himself," said Crabbe, again displaying his rather slow wit. James had to stop himself from heaving a frustrated sigh at the way the man had not managed to answer his question at all.

James decided to prod him along, "And that would be…?"

"By the East entrance, I suppose," Crabbe waved his hand in vague indication. "Anyway, that's where I saw him heading last."

The Gryffindor raked his hands through his hair and took off again without a word of thanks. He was in too much of a hurry to care about courtesies.

As he jogged through the Academy, he passed groups that were tending to their wounded. Other groups had banded together and wore similar expressions of confusion on their faces.

He would have missed Sir Francis all together had the man not shouted out for him. "What is happening?" James demanded, getting straight to the point. If Francis was offended by his curt tone, he did not show it.

"I'm afraid I'm not too sure. It seems...as if the villagers from Hogsmeade have come to our rescue."

Villagers? James mouthed the word in awe. "But…but…how…?" he spluttered. He wasn't able to form a coherent sentence, let alone a coherent thought.

There was a shout from the front lines and James whipped his head around to hear what it was one of the soldiers was announcing. "The Russians have surrendered!"

The triumphant message spread quickly through the groups and Francis turned to face James, expectantly.

The former Elite could not believe their good luck. Only minutes ago, he had been considering retreating. It was almost as though fate had other things in mind. He quickly checked to see that his sword was secure at his hip before addressing the group around him. "Do not lay down your arms just yet. We aren't entirely certain at the intent of the villagers."

As though to back his decision, Moody clunked into the hall, and despite the fact that the man had a serious limp, he moved very quickly indeed. "Constant vigilance!" he barked, sounding upset. "Potter, give me your report!"

James and Francis were able to give each other slightly amused looks before the latter turned back to the commanding officer. "Sir, it seems that the Hogsmeade Villagers have decided to…intervene…on our behalf."

"About goddamn time!" Moody growled, thumping his cane on the ground with each word. "I'll have a word with Lady Charadase yet, about this."

Bewildered, James repeated, "Lady…Charadase? _Vance_?"

But Moody was already storming away, his footsteps echoing through the suddenly silent hall. All the soldiers looked up from their various positions to watch, each knowing that trying to converse with their superior was pointless and dangerous what with the mood he was in. Maybe that was why he preferred to be called by his surname: he certainly lived up to it. James found himself constantly being baffled by the man's sudden changes in moods.

James stared after him, trying to figure out what Moody's little tidbit had meant. Lady Charadase was the same woman who had aided the Russians in the infiltration of the Academy months back.

Now that he thought about it, she had been detained.

By the King's Army.

If that was the case, the commanding officer that had ordered the arrest had been Moody.

…Oh.

Feeling abruptly stupid, James hurried to catch up to the man. While it still didn't all make sense as yet, he was determined to get answers. He reached out and grabbed Moody's arm, more forcefully than he intended. "You had her...all this time she…"

Moody's glare made James release his arm as though it burned red hot. "I had stationed Vance in Hogsmeade shortly after we apprehended her. As it turned out, she was more than eager to help, owing to her grievous felony against the Academy and its members.

"She thought it a way to redeem herself. She's been taking orders from me since, gathering news and warning the villagers of the real intent of these Russian soldiers."  
Indignant, James cried, "That means you never trusted me and my plans to begin with!"

"Don't be arrogant, boy! I told you, didn't I?" Moody snapped. "You must have another plan to fall back on in case your first fails."

James had to stop in his tracks, embarrassed that the man's words rang true: his plan to uphold the Castle had failed. He said slowly, "So you planned…to use me? And if that plan failed, to use someone else?" his voice simmered with restrained anger.

Moody's smile was as twisted as his personality. "That's what being an Optivus is all about."

James thought he would be sick.

Before they could argue some more, one of Moody's soldiers called out for them. The two of them looked over to the man before facing each other again. "We will talk later," Moody said, waving his arm off-handedly, and as much as James disliked the idea, he nodded grimly.

They picked their way outside, through the blood-soaked entryway. James felt his stomach roil dangerously at the sight. Added onto the argument he'd had with Moody, he wasn't sure he would be able to keep from throwing up.

He held his breath as he practically had to wade through dead bodies, thinking that he'd seen more than enough death to last several lifetimes. He staggered down the rest of the space behind Moody, trying to keep his eyes forward and his legs moving. The commanding officer did not seem to be affected at all by the sights and smells

Thankfully, James was distracted by the huge crowd that stood before them. Up close, the presence of what seemed like the entire village was somewhat alarming. It was comprised of mostly men who carried crude weapons with them. There were even some women in the crowd. He caught sight of Joffrey, the barman at the pub that he frequented, but did not get a chance to greet him because Moody was already striding toward Chase.

It had been a while since James had seen her. In the three months that had passed, he noticed that the wound on her face was now healed. However, it left an angry red scar that crossed the bridge of her nose and ended on her lower right jaw. Unable to help himself, James turned his eyes away from the gruesome sight and he saw the woman redden in embarrassment.

Chase had never been on the slender side; while not exactly big, she'd always been what James considered a healthy figure. Now, however, she seemed to have lost all the weight and he wondered if it were because of the fact that she wasn't being fed in her captivity. Her face had a drawn look, almost skeletal and her dress hung loosely about her waist. Even her hair looked limp, though it had grown out a little. Where she once used to wear it just below her ears, it was now jaw-length and he thought that it did not become her at all.

She curtsied, most probably out of habit, and James automatically acknowledged the greeting with a bow of his own. "Lady," he murmured.

Chase smiled, sadly. "Sir James…"

Moody brusquely interjected, "Vance, what's your report?"

She turned her attention to the man, saved from the surety of awkwardness. "Sir, I'm sorry we came so late. The townspeople were hard to convince. But after the bulk of the Russian Army did not return after the Academy's invite, they started to believe. When the rest of the Russian Army went to investigate, we rallied as fast as possible."

The Commanding Officer harrumphed and whether he was displeased or relieved, he gave no sign. "Are there any more soldiers within Hogsmeade?"

"No, sir. The scouts say that those blocking the roads and paths leading to and from the village have fled."

"Most likely to carry the news of a revolt to Toma," James said, with a nod of his head.

"Yes," Chase agreed, simply.

Moody considered this, before turning to look over his shoulder at the remaining soldiers that had surrendered. "We will have a hard time guarding the entire village with only our troops," he said, at last. "It would have been best had we not let a single soldier escape…"

"We expected this to happen," James told him. "By now, Toma has probably gotten wind of my declaration of war and is mobilizing his men."

Chase gasped. "Do you mean…there are more of them? How many could he possibly have at his disposal?"

James shrugged, reaching up to comb his fingers through his dark, thick hair. "I'm afraid we are in the dark with that. But seeing as how he was able to amass such numbers here, I am of the mind that he has more numbers at hand."

"We'll need reinforcements," Moody said, thoughtfully, rubbing one gnarled hand over the other. "Possibly…" he trailed off, meeting James' gaze with his own and James swallowed, frightened at the way he was able to read this madman's mind.

Correction: how his mind was so similar to Moody's.

"Allies," the Gryffindor heard himself finish, in a whisper. That had been his thoughts; his plans. His hand unconsciously moved to the pocket of his coat where he had stored the Treaty.

Again, a million possibilities raced through his head making it spin. He was too tired to think…

By this time, Sir Francis and Kingsley had joined them. "Is there a chance we can get in contact with the rest of the King's Army?" the former asked, alerting James to their presence.

"Perhaps," Moody thumped his cane on the floor again. "Toma's tactic of spreading us out was well played."

James felt his spirits plummet further at the way their enemy was able to stay a step ahead of them all the time. His head started to hurt again, and he rubbed at it while Moody started issuing orders on cleaning up the Academy for it would not do to have the bodies lying about the way they were. He left them to go sit down on a piece of debris that had once held a statue of some sort and try to nurse his wounds. The rest of the statue lay in pieces around him, in chunks of what looked like granite.

To his surprise, he was wounded in the same arm that Lucius had stabbed a week or so back. At first, he'd thought that the cut had reopened itself, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was a new injury due to a bullet that had grazed him. Madam Pomfrey's handiwork on his original wound still held fast. He was about to pull out a handkerchief to stem the bleeding, when Chase knelt in front of him. He raised his head to look at her.

"You're hurt," she stated, pulling out her own handkerchief. It held an embroidered bird on it. He didn't get a chance to see what type because she promptly pressed it against his arm.

"No, don't - " James started to protest, but it was too late.

"It's all right, I have others," Chase said. "The wound does not look deep, but you'll need a bandage, likely." She firmly applied pressure and told him to keep it up so that he would not lose any more blood than necessary.

He decided to obey. "You have my thanks."

Again, she gave him that sad smile. "I'm glad I have that, at least."

This time, James did not look away from her marred face. "You look well," he said, scrambling for something to say that did not allow for a wedge of tension to form between them. While it they were not words of forgiveness, it was as polite as he could get.

Her chuckle was dry. "Sir, you make for a terrible liar."

He tried not to wince, but was unsuccessful. "They treat me well enough," Chase continued. "I suppose I am fortunate that they did not punish me harshly for my crimes."

There was an awkward pause before James told her, "It's human nature to go to the extremes for something you believe in," rather grudgingly.

Chase gave him pleading eyes. "They took my father, Sir James. I was afraid. I had no choice."

"You always have a choice."

She didn't reply, looking down at her fingers.

"Sometimes they're not always the right ones," James told her, to ease the sting of the harshness of his words. "No one blames you for your love for your father."

"They will not care to forgive me," Chase whispered, referring to the students at the Academy. "For one life, I endangered all of yours. So many people died that night…"

James remembered how he had almost made the same decision. Ivan had threatened to harm his sister if he didn't give up the Treaty. In shame, he had begged Professor Edmund to kill him. And now, he was facing the same problem. "It cannot be as bad as what I've done." At her questioning glance, he summoned the courage to smile. "I've gambled the King's life in return for the safety of the kingdom. I can only hope that my choice was beneficial. If not…"

Chase's smile this time was a real one and she placed her hands on his knees, squeezing them gently before standing up. "One way or another, all this would have happened. If you hadn't made the choice, someone else would have. Whether or not I helped people infiltrate the school, they would have still found a way in, I'm sure."

He nodded and stood as well. "I should go speak with Moody. There might be a way to end this madness. Again, I must hope that my choice is the right one, but at the moment, it's all I have."

Chase followed him, demanding, "How?"

"Remus' already on his way to his Hold," James informed her. "If we can get in touch with the soldiers there, we would have enough men to defend, or at least, keep the enemy at bay until real help arrives."

She hurried to keep pace with him. "And where are you going to get that help from?"

"Another ally."

His vague responses did not seem to satisfy her. "How are you going to be able to convince them?"

James glanced over his shoulder at her, briefly, his hand skimming the surface of his coat's pocket again. "Not me," he said, grimly.

He was going to have to retrieve Peter.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The camp was lively, despite the fact that sunup was not for another hour or so. Some women and children were sitting down to an early breakfast. Those on third watch started cleaning up traces of their small fires and packing away their things.

One of them, Sir Zacharias, spotted the scouts. They had returned, and for a moment, he thought he was seeing things when he saw four horses with the group. Atop those horses were people. But, when he looked again, he saw that he recognized two of those figures.

"It's Sir Sirius! And Sir Peter!" he cried, aloud, and the others on the watch team stopped whatever they were doing to look.

As was wont to happen, news of the return of the missing students spread fast amongst those alert enough to understand the message.

Remus led the party forward, hoping that he and his men would be able to snatch at least a few moments of rest. Behind him, the horses carrying his friends and their company followed, slowly. He could tell that Sirius and Peter were anxious and excited to see everyone again, and he couldn't blame them because they had been secluded from everyone for months.

Sirius's feet barely touched the floor when someone nearly knocked him over, flinging their arms around his neck.

He managed to remain upright, grunting as the impact made the breath leave his lungs. He stumbled back a few paces and gasped in air.

Celena.

"My Lady…" he wheezed, in greeting.

"You're here! You're safe! Oh thank the heavens!" Celena cried.

He chuckled in response, and finally got his wits about him so that he could hug her back just as equally tightly. "It's good to see you, too!"

When Celena pulled back, she demanded, "But…how…when…? And what happened to your eye?" for she had just caught sight of the bruise that was still fresh from his fight with Kessick.

Sirius gently pried her hands off him but held one of them fast, to show her that he was not unhappy with her show of affection. Truth be told, he rather liked it. Ever since her unfortunate accident a couple of years ago, she'd been paranoid of any contact. She was terrified of men and wouldn't go near them, let alone let them touch her. That she took up his hand eagerly made him glow inside. "It's a long story. But first - "

"Lady Lily!" Peter's shriek echoed from behind Sirius, cutting the man off from his sentence as said woman ran up to greet them.

Her red hair pulled back into a bun at the back of her head, a twig holding it tightly in place, the wisps of her bangs framing her face. She looked wide awake and freshly cleaned. She seemed out of breath too, but that did not seem to bother her. She grinned and strode purposefully forward.

So the rumors of their return were true after all.

A weight she hadn't noticed was sitting on her chest, lifted.

They were back.

Safe.

Finally!

It was strange, that in the course of the half year that she had known these men, she'd become protective of them, and dare she say it, close.

The two men seemed to be in high spirits, despite the fact that they were disheveled and worse for the wear, Sirius more than Peter. It was the first time Lily had ever seen them as anything but refined and well-groomed and she wondered what ordeals they had had to encounter along the way.

Lily had almost forgotten how handsome Sirius was. Despite the fact that he seemed a little beaten and weary, he returned her grin moving over so that he could put an arm around Celena's waist. The Lady adjusted herself immediately, keeping close, as though doing otherwise would cause him to disappear from her sight.

When Lily finally reached them, Peter clambered off his horse to give her a hug and Sirius bent over to kiss her cheek.

"Welcome back!"

"And is it ever good to be so!" Peter said, excitedly. "Well met, well met, indeed!"

Lily's face creased into a frown. "We were so worried. We hadn't heard from you guys in months!"

"We must beg your pardons, Ladies. We wanted nothing more than to reassure you of our well-beings but Sir James warned us the night we left to keep silent - we could not risk letting our whereabouts be known," Sirius said.

Celena murmured, "I remember…you could not disclose the information to even me."

Sirius gave her an apologetic look, and she smiled back at him. "I'm glad you did keep quiet, else you would have suffered the same fate as His Majesty."

Remus came forward then and informed them that he would go give his report to the Headmaster and the other Elites. When Lily made to go with him, Peter swiftly linked his arm through hers. "I'm hungry!" he announced. "Shall we all breakfast together?"

"Let's," Sirius agreed. He proceeded to introduce his cousin yet again, who had stood back to watch their reunion silently. Rick bowed to them all, smartly, and he was welcomed to join them in their meal.

He bore some resemblance to Sirius – dark hair, a strong jaw line, and broad shoulders. His movements, however, were different from that of his cousin's, reminding Lily more of James and the way his motions were like water; flowing, smooth, fluid.

With a pang, she suddenly wished James were there to celebrate with them. Without him, the group was incomplete. A part of her was jealous that Celena and Sirius were reunited, but she pushed that feeling away. She was happy for them – they seemed to be much more comfortable with each other and it was probably due to this whole fiasco. One never knew when they would see their loved ones again during a war, after all. Their closeness was about the only good outcome so far.

Lily caught sight of Seth, resisting Peter's tug on her arm, and asking, "What about him?"

Sirius glanced backward briefly before swiftly turning away. Peter bit his lip before responding, "His…name is Seth." To Rick he said, "Be certain to keep him within your sights at all times."

Rick nodded and this time, Peter pulled Lily along, not giving her the chance to make acquaintances with the newcomer or ask any more questions. Whoever he was, it was clear that Sirius did not care for him and that Peter was wary of him.

They took their meal with some of the scouts and watchmen, trading stories and news. After a little while, the Elites joined them, keen on getting as much information about what had happened during their journey.

Patiently, Sirius and Peter built off each other's words, recounting everything they could, from their stay at the hospital down to their escape from it. Rick proceeded to fill them in on the army's standpoint, telling them of Toma's plans and strategies.

"He's split us so thoroughly that it was only by chance we were able to gain one regiment back," Rick said.

Lily wanted to scold Peter after having heard about the way he'd insisted to be a decoy during the escape from the hospital. How foolish! What if his plan had backfired? He could have gotten killed!

Sensing her disapproval, Peter faced her and said, "It was the only thing I could think of. I had to take the risk."

"Well, Peter Pettigrew, don't you dare try that again," Lily said, heatedly.

Peter shrunk back and stared down at his shoes and Sirius let out a huff of amusement. "I've rightly chastised him for that stunt, myself, Lady Lily. It's best we leave off from that course."

So Lily settled on giving Peter another reproving look, before asking another question. "What about the regiment then? Are they going to try and defend the Hospital?"

"No," said Rick, "they will make their way to the Lupin Hold, or so I've been told. In any case, we should be able to meet with them there if we head there straight away. Without resting, I'd say we'll be there by nightfall tomorrow, depending on our pace."

"Not feasible," Severus cut in, his silky voice catching everyone's attention. "My notes say that water rations will be dangerously low by this afternoon. And we need to rest and eat along the way."

As much as it pained him to do so, agreeing with a Slytherin, Sirius said, "He is right. We must also think of the children. They won't be able to keep up for very long. And we can't move the camp very far from here seeing as there is a river so close by."

Lily leaned back against a tree, listening to them speak. Everyone brought up good points and she allowed them to bicker amongst themselves. She noted that Peter withdrew from the conversation, his eyelids drooping slightly in his fatigue.

He'd certainly pushed himself too much but she was glad to see that he seemed healthier than normal. His face did not seem as drawn as it had been when he had been back at the Academy. He'd also gotten taller, and seemed less introverted. Or had that all been a façade? When he caught her staring, she offered him a small smile and crept over to crouch next to him.

"It looks like we won't be leaving for a while," she whispered, not wanting to interrupt the conversation that was going on around them.

Peter pushed himself backward some more with his feet, scooting his backside to rest comfortably against the nearest tree to him. "I hope they come to a decision soon," he whispered back, but it sounded more like a sigh. He was so tired…

Lily hummed her agreement and decided to sit next to him. "You have time to take a nap if you want. You look like you need it."

"I do. But if you wouldn't mind, I'll just stay here," he mumbled, head lolling a bit. "I'm too tired to get up to go anywhere…"

She did not try to dissuade him, instead, turning her attention back to the meeting in front of her. Half of them were talking about the best routes they could take, while the other half debated on the best way to keep their resources from running out.

Lucius and Severus had just started to argue with each other to the surprise of all those present, when Lily felt something drop onto her shoulder rather heavily. Despite herself, she let out a small squeak of surprise, but saw that it was only Peter – he'd tipped over and his head now rested against her collarbone.

"P…Pardons…" he breathed, half-conscious.

Lily squirmed over a bit, to even out the weight and moved Peter slowly so that his head could rest on her lap instead. He didn't protest – she didn't think he knew what was going on. He seemed content to lie down, though, because he stretched out, moaning in relief. "There…" she crooned, stroking his stand-brown hair away from his forehead, "that should be a little more comfortable."

He tried to say something, but she shushed him, continuing to comb through his hair with her fingers, letting him relax. In moments, he was asleep.

By the time the meeting was finished, the rest of the camp was awake and rearing to go. They'd come to the conclusion to follow the river for a day before moving out toward the Hold. They'd stop for food and short breaks only because they wanted to get there in good speed. For now, it had been decided that they would allow the scouts to rest and for Sirius and Peter to recuperate from their journey.

When Sirius came to gather Peter, he gave her an apologetic smile. "I will apologize on his behalf for his forwardness. Normally, he has more reserve than to go falling asleep on ladies' laps."

Lily idly smoothed the younger boy's hair back once more. "No, it's okay. I don't mind." She was glad that Peter trusted her enough to let his guard down around her. The thought that he was probably what a little brother was like, ran through her mind again.

Sirius gently took him from her, making sure that the boy did not rouse. "He's got a lot on his mind, His Highness does," he told her. "He's brave though – such burden must not be easy to carry at all. It will only get worse, though, so it's best if he gets as much rest as possible."

Lily rose to her feet, trying to get some feeling back in her legs after having sat on them for such a long time. She dusted herself from dirt and twigs as she did so, asking, "Worse? How could it possibly get any worse than this?"

Sirius glanced over at the bustling camp, where the professors were busy trying to put things in order, the servants from the Academy trailing along behind them, ready to do anything that they were asked to. A few men were practicing their sword play, while ladies sat in groups, talking amongst themselves, a few of them even laughing.

He adjusted Peter in his arms and replied, "The Lupin Household is a proud and dignified one. They have always been in service to the Royal House, leaders in arms and kingdom affairs. They would do anything for the safety of the Crown. If Toma has threatened the King's life, the Hold will most probably have lain down their weapons."

Lily finally managed to get her blood to circulate properly again. "You mean…they won't fight back?"

"Not unless we can somehow convince them," Sirius said. "Peter's not of age yet, so they will most likely keep him in hiding and wait it out."

"Wait it out?" Lily repeated, incredulously. "They can't just sit back and do nothing! People are dying out there, Sirius!"

"I know," said Sirius, grimly. "But you must understand. If they act too soon, they will be left without a leader on the Throne. I have a feeling Toma does not take his words lightly. He won't hesitate to kill the King." He glanced down at his sleeping friend once more. "The thing is, Peter's already given the order to fight back. In doing so, he's gambled the King's life in return for those in the kingdom. We will have to convince the Hold to draw their swords now, not in defense of the Throne, but in defense of the nation."

The Lady sighed a breath of relief. "Oh, that's good. All we have to do is have Peter issue the order. And we have Sir Remus to back us up."

"Actually…" Sirius said, "I fear we will chance upon a very angry Household. What Peter has done is very risky."

"But didn't you say that he discussed this with Sir Cyath?"

"Even so, Remus is our representative, not Sir Cyath," Sirius said, beginning to walk over toward their horses again so that he could get out a bedroll on which to lay his friend. At Lily's questioning tone, Sirius explained, "In the Lupin Household, Remus is considered a Black Sheep."

Oh.

Great.

Things _could_ get worse, after all.

She shouldn't have asked.

**To Be Continued…

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**

**AN**: I wanted to remind you that Charadase Vance (also known as "Chase") was the person who let the Russians come in during the first infiltration of H.W. Academy in _**Philologus**_. Just in case you've forgotten, she was best friends with Lily, Alice and the late Aesalon. For those of you who haven't read the first story…well, now you know!

And of course, the return of Sirius and Peter to the fold. And some Sirius/Celena waff, too. (Not much, since the two weren't very open with their feelings in public anyway. That she hugged him at all is enough of a shock, I think.)

I hope to hear your opinions on this chapter. Did you like it? Hate it? Perhaps even have suggestions? I would love to receive some feedback in the form of reviews and I will do my very best to get another chapter out as soon as possible. Until then, thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	24. Expectations:::

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer:_ The Standard Disclaim applies…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim.

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**AN**: Once again, sorry for the late update. But **WOW! **You guys are awesome, inspiring and just amazing beyond words. Literally. Let me try to impress you as much as you impressed me with your encouragement and reviews.

Shall we take a breather and step back into the past?

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**Chapter 24**

**- Expectations -**

He stared down at his feet, shifting them, feeling embarrassment envelope him.

"It is bad manners to lower one's head whilst there is someone speaking to them," his mother's voice was harsh and scolding, causing him to wince and raise his head obediently.

She was an elegant Lady, brought up perfectly in every manner of court imaginable – at least, that's what Remus believed. She was not only a refined woman, but one that wasn't to be underestimated. She ran the Household with an iron fist. Sometimes, even her husband, Sir Cyath, bit his tongue and withdrew under her command.

When she was in a snit over something, all of her children knew to keep their distance lest they be on the receiving end of her sharp tongue.

Not that she wasn't a pleasant woman. In fact, she had a very gentle disposition and her family loved her dearly, but she was always conscious of courtesies and did not approve of them being overlooked.

Ever.

"You are my youngest son," she was saying, with a hint of weariness. "I shall not have to hear from your Matron again of you disgracing the family again, am I clear?"

"Yes, Lady Elise," Remus said, knowing that sounding anything but sincere would get him nothing more than another tongue-lashing.

"This is not the first time. You must remember that you've a name to uphold," she continued, in that long-suffering way. "Whatever you do reflects on - "  
"-my Father and my brothers," Remus quoted, half-heartedly. "I know, Mother. It's just that…I'm no good at writing. I see no point in having to write or learn poetry. I…" he had to stop himself from ducking his head again and admitted, "I find it rather boring…"

His mother's mouth twitched momentarily in what must have been a ghost of a smile before she set it into a grim line. "Well, boring or not, Sir Remus, you have to learn it. Or do you wish to attend the Academy daft?"

Remus blushed and shook his head so that his soft curls bounced. While his hair was long, it was not long enough to tie it back into a customary ponytail that the rest of his Household wore. Instead, the servants had bound half of it up into what he considered a girl's hairstyle. "No, mother."

"No more skiving classes," Elise said, sternly.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And be sure to apologize to your Matron."

"Yes, ma'am."

She dismissed him after dropping a kiss onto his forehead. Rightly chastised, Remus left her sitting room, wishing he didn't have to worry about keeping up any sort of image. Having a family as old as his, however, bound them all to a sort of code that he was expected to live up to.

A voice from his right caused him to start and gasp. "Reprimanded, then?"

His brother.

"Sir Medwin," Remus greeted, non-too-happily. It was bad enough to get scolded by his mother, but to have the eldest of the eight siblings jump in on the bandwagon was worse. He was the heir of the Lupin legacy and looked every bit the part, dressed smartly in the armor of the King's Army, his long blue cape nearly brushing the floor. He was already a full-fledged member; a commander of a regiment. Remus had always stood in awe of him and did so again, now. He'd always liked Sir Medwin best.

Medwin uncrossed his arms and bent down to face his youngest brother. "Sir Remus, Master Dumbledore is not known to take in ill-disciplined students at his Academy," he said, gently.

Remus flinched. Somehow, having Medwin scold him was more embarrassing than if he had been turned over his mother's knee for a whipping. He found his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and shame filled him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

"Trouble again?"

Another one of his brothers, Lex, came up from behind them and both boys turned to the sound of his voice. This brother, however, did not exchange any greetings, instead sneered down at Remus. "Is it so hard to behave, brother?"

"Come now, Sir Lex," Medwin said, trying to keep his voice light so that there would be no argument, "a lad's allowed his faults."

"Not if they are constantly flaunting them," Lex snarled.

"I did beg my Lady's pardon," Remus protested.

"Well, I shan't be a laughing stock because of you," Lex said, in disgust. "People will talk, you know. They shall say that the Lupin Household cannot even hold their youngest in line. You'll be lucky if you are accepted anywhere with a record like yours."

This made Remus angry and before he could retort, he felt Medwin's hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "What's done is done. Part ways now, Sir Lex, and we shall consider this matter finished."

"Finished, but not forgotten," Lex said, stiffly, before storming off.

Remus wished he could disappear on the spot and to his horror, he felt tears come to his eyes.

"None of that now," Medwin ordered, returning his attention to him. "Sir Lex is right: you must mind your behavior, Sir Remus, else your actions may cause damage not only to yourself but to others."

Remus hastily wiped his tears away and he felt Medwin ruffle his hair. "Understand that Sir Lex is working toward the status of Philologus. It is not an easy thing to attain. If there is even one word against him, the King will not choose him." He began to lead him up the stairs and as Remus followed, he swore he could feel the eyes of the servants following him.

How had his disgrace reached the whole House in such short a time?

They travelled together in companionable silence, the younger trying to keep up with his brother's longer strides. They passed numerous hallways, ones that even Remus had not been allowed to explore. Some led to servants' quarters, while others led to the main barracks of the soldiers that trained. Others led to the parlors where visitors were often taken and still more led to the stables and the rooms of the hired hands that helped keep the stalls.

They took the ones that led to the main house where his family had taken up residency. It consisted of three floors, more hallways, and too many rooms to count. It was here that Remus spent most of his time and thus had no trouble finding his way around. The main floor was brightly lit with a chandelier, whose beams of light shone against the spotless floor. In fact, it was so shiny that if Remus didn't know better, he would have sworn people could slip and fall on it.

The servants who were in the area stopped whatever they were doing to give them bows of acknowledgement and Medwin returned them with a casual wave of his hand. As a commander of the Army, now, the man was not a frequent visitor any more, so the sight of him was quite unexpected.

Remus saw that several women on the cleaning staff were eyeing his brother appreciatively and was going to point that out, when yet two more brothers hailed them from the top of the curving staircase.

Aadris and Aaron may have been twins but the two were so opposite that they did not look like they had any family ties between them at all. Aadris was tall, with red-brown hair and sharp green eyes (traits that did not run on either side of their blood line) while Aaron was slightly smaller and had inherited the soft blond hair of their father's lineage. Both were amiable people, Remus supposed, save for the fact that they were not so very amiable with him. Like Sir Lex, the twins regarded him as a hindrance to their status.

"Honor to the House of Lupin," Aaron called. He was a squire with three more years of training yet before he was able to qualify for the Army. Remus winced at his sarcastic tone.

"Hold your tongue," Aadris told him, playing his part in the scheme of embarrassing Remus. Unlike his twin, he was working toward a status in politics. "Everyone knows Sir Remus' style by now. He's a child, after all."

Oh, how Remus hated that word. Whenever his brothers meant to demean him, they always referred to him as such. The world of adults and gentlemen seemed to stretch miles away and he felt like he would never reach it.

The twins argued with each other loudly from the top of the banister, further embarrassing Remus. "Sir Aadris, you mustn't give him that excuse every time, else he'll use it in free reign."

"He's different from the rest of us," Aadris said, "and while it does not give me any pleasure whatsoever, I've come to acknowledge that."

Remus didn't know whether or not to be flattered or hurt by that statement. He settled on the latter feeling, knowing that Aadris might have sounded like he was defending him, but in actuality, was blatantly pointing out that Remus would never be like them.

The expectations were set too high.

As Medwin and Remus drew near, Aaron peered down at Remus. "Father will have your hands in punishment," he said, leeringly, and Remus shrunk back at his words, his heart clenching in dismay at the very thought.

"Must I always play the peace keeper?" Medwin sighed, frustrated. "Get on with you two. What Sir Remus did is no longer up for discussion, especially in public. If anything is a disgrace, it's the way you are both carrying on like a pair of ninnies."

Aaron scowled. "That's your problem, Sir Medwin. You always have to stick up for him, so he knows he can hide his faults behind someone."

Medwin stared his younger brother down. "His faults have been dealt with accordingly and are none of your concern. Now, I believe, gentlemen, that you have places to be and things to do."

Aadris turned away in a huff. "Yes, I'd rather be doing something productive rather than waste my breath on someone who does not heed advice. Good day, brothers." And with that, he hitched up the book bag that was slung over his shoulder and proceeded to make his way down the staircase.

Medwin stayed rooted in place for a moment or two, as though contemplating his younger brother's words. Then he turned to Remus and beckoned him onward. Obediently, Remus fell into step behind him once more, wondering why image was such a big issue to begin with. Surely there were Households that didn't care for it as much as his did.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't realize that they had turned down a different path that did not lead to the tutorial rooms where his Matron was waiting.

He reached out to snag his brother's sleeve. "Sir Medwin, where are we going? Mother said - "

"-Father wanted to speak with you, first," Medwin cut him off. "Why else do you think I was sent to fetch you after Mother's lecture?"

Remus stopped walking abruptly. If his father was involved, then it was not a good sign. Aaron's threat came to mind and he shivered. Sir Cyath did not take lightly to his affairs being interrupted due to an unruly son. He expected order and discipline and counted on the brothers to watch one another and keep each other from trouble. No wonder his brothers were upset at him – they'd probably been blamed for his actions.

Who knew that the innocent act of skipping classes could blow things out of proportion so quickly?

But Medwin was still talking, unaware that his charge was no longer following. "I've some forces to train but I was told to put it off until I brought you to him." He trailed off when he realized that Remus had fallen behind. "Sir Remus?"

Guiltily, Remus hurried to catch up, wanting nothing more than to drag his feet but knowing that doing so would probably get him into more trouble, or worse, get his eldest brother into that trouble with him. He was tired of becoming everyone's set back.

He'd have to face his punishment bravely.

Still, he couldn't help reaching out to slip his hand into his elder brother's, trying to gather as much courage as possible. Medwin did not comment on it, curling his fingers over the smaller hand in a comforting gesture.

Together, they came to the big double doors of their father's private study and Medwin gave Remus' hair another playful tousle before knocking and announcing their presence.

Sir Cyath's voice was rich and deep, bidding them to enter. Medwin met Remus' terrified gaze before pushing the doors open and striding in, his cape billowing out behind him, grandly. Once more, Remus could not help but stare at his brother in awe.

His father, who had been sitting down on one of his comfortable couches, stood. Unlike Medwin, he was not attired in the usual armor of the King's Army. In fact, Remus was surprised to see that the man was casually dressed. He was wearing a white ruffled shirt that was unbuttoned to his mid-chest. He also sported dark blue britches and knee-high boots that looked to be freshly polished. He was a spitting image of Remus in every aspect, from his golden locks to his gray eyes. Despite his age, he was still strikingly handsome.

"Thank you for your pains, Sir Medwin," he said.

"If there is nothing else you require of me, I will take my leave," Medwin replied, after courtesies had been exchanged.

"That will be all," Cyath said, with a firm nod.

Remus stepped aside to allow room for his elder brother to get past him and was most surprised when Medwin gave his shoulder a squeeze upon parting. Whether it was in sympathy or in a gesture of courage, he didn't get the chance to find out because his father called his name.

Jumping, Remus straightened his back, snapping to attention. "Come here," his father ordered, and meekly, Remus did as he was told.

"I heard talk amongst the servants today," the man said, sternly. He didn't need to say more to show how displeased he was.

Remus lowered his eyes to the carpeted floor. It was a rich blue color. When he had been younger, he'd often trod upon it with bare feet and could vouch for the fact that it was the softest thing in the world. The furniture was pale cream, accenting the room in a gentle way. Despite the fact that it was a private room, it seemed to beckon visitors to come inside. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to escape it.

"I'm disappointed in you," Cyath said.

"I know," Remus sighed, raising his hands toward his father, palms down. It was better to get things over with: he hated having them switched – it hurt something awful, not to mention the fact that it made playing the piano impossible.

He looked up when his father did not move to get the apparatus. Cautiously, Remus lowered his hands, wondering if perhaps his father meant to turn him over his knee instead and he felt his cheeks warm – he might not be a man grown, but he was certainly old enough for that kind of punishment! The last time he had been disciplined in that manner by the man he could barely sit for a week.

To his bewilderment, his father merely turned away from him, to stare outside the window. Somehow, his indifference and brooding silence was worse than had he lifted his hand against him. Taking a step forward, Remus ventured, "…Father?"

"I have a guest today," his father said, still not turning to face him. The boy did not know what to make of his announcement, so he decided to keep quiet. He would most likely be dismissed any moment now and he wondered whether the fates were being kind to him: this was the most flaccid reprimand he'd ever gotten.

He was taken aback when Sir Cyath continued, "I should like you to play a piece for us while we converse."

Perhaps he had heard wrong?

Sir Cyath was now looking at him pointedly over his shoulder. Realizing that he was gaping, Remus shut his mouth and bowed slightly. "Yes, sir." He didn't want to question his orders, lest his father take out that dreaded switch after all. He'd rather play until his fingers felt like falling off – _that_ pain he could take.

"Mind you play it well," his father ordered. "Go on, now."

In that, Remus was more than confident and he murmured, "Yes, sir," again, in acknowledgement before hurrying away.

He made his way into the connecting room, which was a Drawing Room of sorts, where a grand piano sat in the corner. This room was furnished in much the same way as the last, the main attraction being the beautiful instrument. It stood in dark contrast to the light furniture and seemed to call out to him.

Sliding into the seat, Remus let his fingers brush the pearly white keys almost in reverence. With this instrument, he was the Master. It bent to his will and he could manipulate the music however he wished. It never argued with him, never expected anything of him.

Yes, there was nothing he loved more than playing the piano.

He began to play, softly at first, introducing himself to instrument before progressing into a melody that he favored. He forgot all his problems in the music as it rose to obey him, swirling around the room in a gentle breeze. He swayed in it, losing himself in its caress, its comforting embrace. He quite forgot that his father and his guest were in the room behind him and were taking up tea while conversing, absorbed as he was.

One song flowed into another, his fingers nimbly moving from one key to the next with the ease of long practice. In this world, there was no one to tell him of his faults, of his shortcomings, of their disappointment in him. In this world, he knew his place.

Time became everything and nothing.

Then, in a startling moment, the music shattered, and it was so painful that he gasped.

His finger had slipped.

A mistake.

It was so startling that he blanked out, the rest of the music that was waiting to be performed skittering away, and he stopped playing all together.

Remus felt as though he'd been rudely awakened from a pleasant dream. It was almost inexcusable! The room came hurtling back at him so fast that he had to blink to stop it from swimming. He stared at the keys numbly for a moment and felt a faint stir of anger.

It evaporated when another sound cut through the sudden silence.

Applause.

He turned in his seat so fast that he felt his lower back crack in protest.

There, standing in the doorway was a tall, wiry-looking man, who sported a beard that was quite long in Remus' opinion. He could not help but wonder if the man's hair was just as long, but he could not see it, for it was hidden behind a hat that was a dark purple in color.

He was dressed in a matching purple suit that surely wasn't seen as fashionable but somehow, was fitting for him. It was complete with a golden tie that, if one looked closely, had embroidered star patterns on it.

His eyes twinkled from behind half-moon spectacles and Remus suddenly blushed as though he had been caught doing something terribly wicked. The last note he had played suddenly echoed in his mind again, making him wince inwardly. Such a terrible mistake to make, especially in the presence of company. He thought he would die of shame.

"Splendid – simply splendid!" The man praised. His voice was a jolly thing to hear. "I say, Sir Cyath! What talent!" He began to applaud again.

Remembering his manners, Remus stood but before he could do anything more, his father said, "He plays as though he wields that instrument as a weapon."

Trust his father to compare his skills to that of a warrior.

Well, he couldn't blame the man: he was the highest of the Commanding Officers in the King's army, after all. His whole world revolved around arms and tactics.

"I'm honored that you would play for me," the stranger said, addressing Remus, who had begun to shift in his spot as was his wont when he was embarrassed.

"Sir Remus, this is Sir Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of H.W. Academy," Cyath informed him, with a gesture.

Remus bowed, stiffly. "The-the honor is mine, Headmaster," he stuttered, in disbelief. Why, oh _why_ had he gone and made such a blunder in the only skill he possessed?

Dumbledore smiled, and when he did, it set Remus a bit more at ease. "I came here today as requested, to discuss with your father whether you are a good candidate to study at my school." The man seemed to think it was prudent to let the youngster know all the details. Because of that, Remus felt even better. This man was treating him like an equal. Still…the prospect of the man's presence was enough to make him nervous all over again for other reasons.

What if he wasn't cut out for the Academy?

Sir Medwin had said that Dumbledore did not fancy wayward children. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Had the Headmaster heard of his disgrace? If so, he was doomed to attend a lesser school and for sure he'd never live that down with his brothers.

"It takes much discipline to master an instrument," Dumbledore said. "How many hours do you practice a day, Sir Remus?"

"Three at least, sir," Remus said. "I would do more, but I must attend other studies." He hadn't meant for his voice to sound so bitter, but he couldn't help himself. He really didn't like his Matron or the rigid curriculum that he was forced to follow.

"I'm glad to see you take it seriously," the Headmaster said, with a nod of his head, his hat flopping along. If he meant taking his practice time seriously or his study time seriously, Remus was not sure and hoped he meant both.

His father interrupted their acquaintance, ever the type to get straight down to business. "He will be of age to attend this coming year, if you would have him, Headmaster. While he is not as skilled academically as my other sons, he shows promise in other areas."

"So I've heard," Albus said, with yet another nod, referring to Remus' piano recital. "Let us talk academics, then."

Remus felt himself grow numb with the words. Here it was. Once Dumbledore heard about them, he would never be allowed admittance into the prestigious school. He might even be sent to St. Brutus', which was known to be a school for incurably criminal boys, for in his household, failure at Academics was paramount to being a criminal offense.

He was almost relieved when his father indicated the doorway leading out with his chin. "Sir Remus, you will wait outside."

"Yes, sir," Remus said, stepping lightly away from the instrument. "Headmaster," he gave the man a courtly bow as best as possible before making his way outside. How he was able to make it to the door was beyond him; his knees were threatening to knock together with the way his legs were shaking so badly.

He almost fell over once he closed the door behind him. He wished he could re-do the whole day over again, wanting nothing more than to have stayed inside to save himself from this humiliation. First his mother's admonishing, then his blunder at his piano piece and now this sure rejection from the Headmaster himself.

He suddenly felt very sick and he squatted down against the wall in an effort to calm his stomach, taking deep breaths. He didn't know how long he stayed like that. All he was aware of was the queasy feeling taking its bloody time to go away. He was left feeling light-headed.

As if to make things worse, the twins came ambling back, this time with a fifth brother, Felix, in tow. If Remus had inherited his father's looks, Felix was dyed in the pattern of his mother. He, like Lex, was currently studying at the Academy, always being praised for his intelligence. It was with him that Remus always reviewed his harder lessons and it was also with him that he had received many a tongue-lashing for his inability to grasp things quickly. Unlike the twins, however, Felix was friendly toward him.

Well…

As friendly as any of his siblings could get, aside from Medwin.

"Remus, what's wrong?" Felix demanded, upon seeing him. He was the only one who called him by anything familiar.

"Did father switch more than just your hand?" sneered Aadris, his voice dripping false concern.

"Probably," his twin answered, before Remus could get a word in. "I saw Master Dumbledore being escorted in, earlier. If he heard anything on our dear brother's performance today, there's little doubt as to Father's disappointment."

Remus stood, indignantly. "He didn't lay a hand on me," he snapped, feeling his cheeks warm.

They looked surprised. Actually, Felix, more so than the twins; they looked rather put out at the thought that Remus hadn't received anything worse than a scolding. "Shall we do it for him?" Aaron asked, rubbing his hands together in eager anticipation.

At that, Remus balled his fists. "You can try!"

Before anyone could move, though, Felix was in the middle of them, glaring at Aaron. "You'll do no such thing," he said, a warning in his tone. "If Father gets wind of it, you will all get more than just the switch, I promise. You know how he detests brawls."

"Not if he doesn't know," Aaron argued, showing just how truly hot-headed he was. No wonder he had been pulled back a year in his squire's training. Medwin would not let him advance any further unless he learned to school his quick temper.

But Felix did not back down and turned to Remus. "I hope you didn't bring us a grievance _again_, Remus," and the boy flinched at his snarky tone, "because I don't fancy having to answer to anyone for broken bones or battered faces."

Aaron snickered, "His more than ours," to which his twin chuckled along and earned a scowl from their elder brother.

"Have you met with the Master, then?" Felix asked, choosing to ignore the twin's threats.

Seething, Remus nodded. Oh, how he would love to kick Aaron in the shins!

"Please, for everything that is good and holy, tell me you gave your best impression," Felix said, in a long-suffering manner.

"Ten galleons that he blundered somehow!" Aadris hissed to Aaron, loud enough so that Remus could hear.

Strike that – Remus wanted to kick _him_ in the shins too.

He wished he was able to keep his emotions from showing on his face, but Remus was like an open book. Felix actually slapped his forehead in dismay at the guilty look that he was unable to conceal. "Oh…Remus…!" he sighed.

"I made _one_ mistake!" Remus heard himself say, defensively.

"One mistake is all that it takes!" Aaron growled, raising a fist and shaking it. "I'll bet you don't even get into St. Brutus' at this rate. You'll stay here in the nursery forever."

Aadris leaned in, keen to be in on the taunts. "Better yet," he said, "stay here so that you can keep your miserable failures from the outside world. Save us the further dishonor."

This time, Felix didn't step to his defense, too disappointed to do anything but shake his head.

Remus shrunk back, his tongue twisting in his mouth as he struggled to keep himself from saying something that would further aggravate his already angry brothers. He was sure Aaron was a breath away from smacking him.

Aadris wasn't done with his scathing remarks, though. "What were we thinking? He's too daft. There was never any hope for him to get into a school like H.W. Academy." His smile was so fake that Remus could not mistake it for anything but scorn. "Worry not. We'll be sure to send you some consolation candies."

"Or perhaps a pacifier," Aaron added.

"And a bottle."

The two of them began to laugh, as though they had said the funniest thing in the world.

Once more, Remus felt tears hit his eyes but he would be damned before he let them fall.

He was betrayed into a jump when a voice from behind him spoke and though it was calm and jovial, it didn't need to be condescending to show its displeasure. "Good afternoon, all."

Dumbledore.

The twins stood up a bit straighter, and Felix hailed him as was the custom at the Academy. "Good evening, Master," they chorused.

Remus seemed to have lost his voice, so he merely dipped his head. He was more than pleased at the presence of the elder man. He wasn't sure how much more he would have been able to take.

"Enjoying your holidays, then?" The Headmaster asked.

Aaron actually had the grace to blush. "Y-yes, sir." Beside him, his twin nodded vigorously.

"Very good." The man then turned to face Remus, showering him with a beaming smile. "Sir Remus, might I congratulate you for your admission into the Academy? I must say I'm looking forward to having you under my tutelage."

Remus was quite sure that his jaw had unhinged because it fell open on its own accord, his heart leaping into his mouth. His other three brothers mirrored his reaction, completely dumbfounded. At a loss for words, Remus stammered, "O-oh…t-thank you, Professor. I-I mean…sir….I-I mean…H-headmaster…"

Felix looked ready to faint on the spot at his blundering, but it didn't seem to bother Dumbledore at all. In fact, his smile grew wider. "I will leave your father to explain all the details. Gentlemen, until the next term," he said, with a gesture of his hand.

As though swept aside by an invisible hand, the men scrambled to get out of the way as the man glided past. Remus was stunned, unable to do anything but gape. He quickly noted that his mouth was hanging open again because he promptly snapped it shut when his father suddenly called his name.

How long the man had been there, the boys had no idea. But Remus was willing to bet that he had heard all the jeering remarks and the whole exchange. His cheeks flamed and he had yet to pinpoint whether it was because of embarrassment over his brothers' words or in pride that he had actually been considered to attend such a prestigious school.

"Yes, Father?"

"A word, if I may."

Looking at his brothers, unsure what to think – what to feel – Remus forced himself forward. He was certain he'd pass out at any moment and wake up to find that he'd dreamed this all up.

His brothers swallowed as one when their father turned his gaze to them. "I had hoped for some propriety. Be sure we will talk more on the matter." And there was a promised threat in the tone of his voice that Remus was fervently glad was not directed at him.

As his brothers left (practically ran, is more like it), his father turned to face him again. "I trust you learned your lesson, today?"

"I didn't mean to humiliate you in any way, Father! I will practice harder in the future…" he cut himself off when Cyath raised a hand.

"No, Remmy," and the boy knew that he wasn't mad because his father only ever reverted to that silly nickname when he was in light spirits. He never called him that in the presence of others, either. It was a sign that his father loved him just as dearly as any of his pompous elder brothers and Remus secretly relished it. He didn't suppose any of them had been given an endearment of any sort and it made him feel special. "I'm talking about your earlier actions, not your skill. It is important to remember that there is a consequence to everything we choose to do. You very nearly lost your place at the Academy because of your little stunt today."

Remus hunched his shoulders in shame. Somehow, a whipping would have been better than this quiet chastising. "I'm sorry," he said, in a small voice.

He felt his father squeeze his shoulder and felt slightly better. "Well, you have my congratulations," Cyath said, sounding for the world like he was going to burst in pride. "The Headmaster has invited you to play a piece for him before the summer ends. His company would greatly enjoy it."

"Company? Sir?"

"A few diplomats. The King may even be in attendance." Cyath sounded so casual, as though having the King of England come over for tea was a daily occurrence.

Remus felt like he was floating on air. "But father, my skills are not up to par. What if…?" he tried not to let his voice shake, but it did anyway, when he put words to his fear. "What if I make a fool of myself?"

His father smiled down at him. "Nonsense. I have no doubts as to your ability. You are bright in your own way."

The boy was not convinced though and he blurted, "My brothers don't seem to think so."

Cyath slowly lowered himself down so that he was eye level with him. "Listen to me, Remmy – you are very intelligent. Don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise." He nudged Remus' chin up. "Be proud of who you are, son."

In a fashion that was almost diffident, Remus peered at him through his lashes. "…Are…are _you _proud of me, father?"

His father smiled. "Of course I am. Just because you are different from your brothers, does not mean I love you less. Always remember that."

Solemnly, Remus nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Now, come along," his father instructed, clearly uncomfortable with sentimental moments, and Remus had to fight a grin because of it. "We shall have a talk with your Matron and I will tell you more of the expectations at the Academy…"

**0-0-0-0-0**

"If you don't like being treated like a child, sir, then best not to act like one," Lex scolded him, his face radiating disapproval. Then again, it was always scowling as though it were permanently fixed that way.

Remus' uniform was splattered in mud, so much so that one would have a hard time figuring out what House he belonged to. The single golden stripe he wore on his breast pocket was obscured from sight.

Remus scowled right back. He was tired of having his elder brothers tell him what to do and how to act. They were just as suffocating at the Academy. "It's none of your business," he heard himself say.

Lex reached out and grabbed a fistful of Remus' shirt, lifting him so that his feet very nearly left the ground. When the elder man bent down to snarl at him, Remus could make out the silver pendant that all Elites wore, staring up at him in a mocking way. "Back home, you could get away with your disobedience." He gave Remus a little warning shake. "But not here. You _will_ obey me. Do you understand?"

Remus squirmed in his grasp, too shocked to make a sound but Lex merely shook him again. "Father is not around for you to hide behind, nor is Sir Medwin here to protect you from - "

"-Leave him be, Sir Lex," someone ordered, much to Remus' relief. A part of him was mortified at having someone come to his rescue, but at the moment, he wanted Lex to let him go enough to forgo being too embarrassed.

His brother did so, causing Remus to stumble back a few paces and catch a glimpse at his savior.

James Potter.

If he was surprised, Lex did not show it. Instead, he sniffed in disdain. "Affairs of our House are none of your concern," he said.

But James was not ruffled by the elder boy's haughtiness. "At the Academy, he is part of _my_ House, not yours," the boy said, evenly.

Lex looked like he wanted to argue some more, but at that moment, James' friend, Sirius Black, chose to make his entrance. "Is there something amiss, good sirs?" he asked, solicitously.

With a flick of his dark green cape, Lex chose not to answer, a growl in his throat He gave them a dark, meaningful look before leaving them standing in the hallway.

"Did I say something...?" Sirius wondered at his retreating figure. "Perhaps I came at the wrong time?"

"Right on time, I would say," Remus said, with a slight shake of his head. He'd been fairly certain that Lex would punish them all for their officiousness but it seemed he didn't want to have the whole Gryffindor House to contend with.

Smart of him.

Well, at least he'd have to leave Remus alone for the rest of the school year.

Suddenly, the boy felt much more at ease.

"Are you all right?" James was looking at him over dark frames and Remus bowed slightly in thanks.

"I am. Things are…complicated…" he didn't elaborate and blinked when Sirius handed him a handkerchief. Gratefully, he took it and began to wipe his face from the mud and dirt. He didn't want to explain how keen his family was in mannerisms. If his father heard about this scuffle, he'd likely have a heart attack.

No doubt Lex would have word to him by the end of the day.

"That was some wallop you gave to Sir Avery," Sirius was saying, catching his attention again. "He deserved it though, saying such nasty things against our Branch and its Ladies. Honestly, Slytherins – you'd think they would have enough sense to keep their forked tongues behind their teeth."

Remus couldn't help but grin. He'd never expected anyone to condone his actions. Avery had been rather crass and had even made to raise his hand against Lady Nymphadora. If there was one thing Remus didn't abide by, it was standing by and letting Ladies be humiliated. He'd stepped to her defense, resulting in a scuffle that left him worse for the wear. However, he was proud to note that he'd given Sir Avery a black eye in the exchange. "I'm afraid Professor McGonogall won't be as forgiving as you are," he said, ruefully.

Sirius stuffed his hands in his pockets and offered, "We will put in a word for you," for he too, was not the type to let Ladies be slandered.

"Right," James chimed in. "Us Gryffindors – we have to stick together because we're like family."

Remus chuckled. "More brothers? At this rate, I'll run out of fingers on which to count."

Sirius leaned forward, rocking onto the balls of his feet and then reversing his position so that he swayed in his spot. "We'll be the best brothers you've ever had." At their knowing looks, Remus knew that he did not have to explain anything.

Somehow, they always knew.

And somehow, it never bothered him.

**To Be Continued…**

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**AN:** A big shout-out to my sister, who did the final edit to this chapter. Again, sorry it was so late. If I had a wish, it would be to add more hours to the day so that I could get more things accomplished. In any case, I hope you liked this installment.

Anyway, I've been digging around for some good books to read lately as I've just about gobbled everything in sight. Any suggestions?

Before you exit the window, would you kindly review? Be my inspiration!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	25. Checkmate

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim._

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**AN:** As promised. At long last. Another chapter. Apologies aren't enough. I apologize anyway. Welcome back, those who have been waiting for months (literally) for an update! Welcome to all new readers. Here's to hoping you enjoy.

Onward.

* * *

_Previously: _

_"Worse? How could it possibly get any worse than this?"_

_Sirius adjusted Peter in his arms and replied, "The Lupin Household is a proud and dignified one. They have always been in service to the Royal House, leaders in arms and kingdom affairs. They would do anything for the safety of the Crown. If Toma has threatened the King's life, the Hold will most probably have lain down their weapons. They will not pick them up unless we can somehow convince them. Peter's not of age yet, so they will most likely keep him in hiding and wait it out."_

_"Wait it out?" Lily repeated, incredulously. "They can't just sit back and do nothing! People are dying out there, Sirius!"_

_"I know," said Sirius, grimly. "But you must understand. If they act too soon, they will be left without a leader on the Throne. I have a feeling Toma does not take his words lightly. He won't hesitate to kill the King." He glanced down at his sleeping friend once more. "The thing is, Peter's already given the order to fight back. In doing so, he's gambled the King's life in return for those in the kingdom. We will have to convince the Hold to draw their swords now, not in defense of the Throne, but in defense of the nation."_

_The Lady sighed a breath of relief. "Oh, that's good. All we have to do is have Peter issue the order. And we have Sir Remus to back us up."_

_"Actually…" Sirius said, "I fear we will chance upon a very angry Household. What Peter has done is very risky."_

_"But didn't you say that he discussed this with Sir Cyath?"_

_"Even so, Remus is our representative, not Sir Cyath," Sirius said, beginning to walk over toward their horses again so that he could get out a bedroll on which to lay his friend. At Lily's questioning tone, Sirius explained, "In the Lupin Household, Remus is considered a Black Sheep."_

_Oh._

_Great._

_Things __**could **__get worse, after all._

_She shouldn't have asked._

* * *

**- Checkmate -**

"You're unusually quiet."

"Hmm? Oh…ah…"

Nymphadora stopped walking, pulling Remus up short, linked as they were holding hands. "Is something the matter?"

He mustered up a smile. "Everything is fine," he said.

"No, it's not," Nymphadora insisted. "Please do not lie to me, sir."

Remus met her gaze, abashedly. "Very well, I beg your pardons." He drew in a breath before tugging her to walk again and falling into step next to her. "I am…apprehensive to return home."

"Apprehensive?"

"It is never accommodating," he admitted. "At least…not for me."

Nymphadora released his hand in favor of putting her arm around his waist instead. "I'm sure your brothers can't be _that_ terrible."

He huffed and under his breath he said, "You don't know the half of it." At her raised eyebrow, he gave her another smile. This time, though, it was sad. "I will be bringing them bad news."

Nymphadora stopped again, her hand unconsciously touching her stomach. "If you're talking about the baby - "

"-No! No, darling that's not what I meant," Remus said, eyes wide. "I told you: we are having that baby no matter what anyone says. I can't be happier at the thought that we are going to bring a life into this world." He was excited, but at the same time, he was terrified. He'd not even graduated and yet he was going to be a father! "My household will think it's bad news, though, now that you mention it," he added, as an afterthought.

Her heart-shaped face seemed to cloud but she nodded, reluctantly. She'd known that they would not be able to hide it from the world forever.

"But I was talking about the news of the war," Remus continued. "Somehow, I'm sure there is going to be much grief over our request for troops to help."

"It's their duty!" Nymphadora said. "And it's the direct order from your father."

"And _I _am the messenger," sighed her partner." She already knew that he wasn't very favored. Somehow, he was sure they would find a way to pin the blame of all of this on him.

He really wasn't looking forward to it.

His thoughts were pulled from that topic when he heard Peter's laughter behind him over something Sirius must have said, for the latter was laughing as well. It was comforting to know that he would not have to face his family alone. Relief washed over him at the fact that his friends – more family to him than his actual one – were safe and by his side again.

They seemed just as happy to be back amongst the rest of the Academy body, even though they were not safely within the walls of the old Castle. In fact, Sirius told him that Peter seemed to be making a much speedier recovery now that he was out of the Hospital.

Whatever the case, Remus was glad to hear it.

It was a long trek and there was yet more ground to cover. Because of the roundabout route that they had decided to follow, it would take them another day or so to reach their destination.

"Just remember, Remus, that you are not the cause of this war. You have no reason to be ashamed of the message you bear."

He smiled down at his Lady, pressing a kiss onto her forehead and choosing instead to change the topic. "I'm hoping to find some familiar terrain and soon. All this scouting is wearing me thin."

And it was true, because scouts were constantly coming and going, reporting their findings to him at every hour of the day. There were times where Remus forwent sleep all together in his effort to move the large group forward. He figured that this was what it must feel like to be a Commanding Officer and he didn't envy his father a bit for it.

If he had been exhausted before, he was more so now. Sometimes, it felt as though his head were detached from his body, or like he was floating. For the most part, everything seemed to pass by in a blur. He had to try his best to pay attention because his father had always told him that one mistake could prove fatal in the act of scouting.

He didn't even want to think about his appearance. Haggard and sunken, most likely, if he had any guess. A fine stubble was growing on his cheeks and chin, but at least he was not the only one.

The idea of rest was starting to seem foreign.

Peter's laughter floated out to greet him again, making him turn his head to see what was going on.

The boy was engaged in a mock sword fight with Sirius, both using long branches that had been whittled down to look more like weapons, resembling switches. Despite his height disadvantage, Peter was able to spar well as he was quick on his feet, dancing away from most of the attacks before they could connect. Rick stepped in to stop their fight time and again so he could advise the younger boy on certain tactics before allowing them to resume.

Soon, a crowd had gathered to watch, a few calling out encouragements. Remus was glad to note that Peter seemed to be enjoying himself and was able to move so lithely again – proof that he was recovering just fine. The play turned a little rougher and that brought Professor McGonogall over to intervene. "To think, those of my House displaying such behavior!" the Lady fumed once she had stopped the fight. "You know the rules – no swords drawn against each other unless during Defense instruction!"

Sirius flicked his makeshift blade. "I beg your pardon ma'am, but we have not unsheathed our swords." As he spoke, he gestured to his hip, where the weapon lay safely encased in its scabbard.

"And we _are _being instructed," Peter added, quite cheekily. "Sir Rick promised me he would help me, seeing as how I've been away for so long and missed so much."

It was always amusing to see their Head of House flounder for words. The Marauders always seemed to have that effect on her. Before she could say anything more, Remus cut in. "Let them have their fun, Professor. So long as no one gets hurt, I don't see why we must refrain from learning what we can on the road."

There was a collective murmur of agreement from the rest of the students and Sirius and Peter gave Remus grateful looks. "It is a bad precedent," the Professor said, with a shake of her head, but her voice was relenting and cheers went up from the crowd. She had to raise her voice to be heard as well as her arms to quiet them down. "_However_, the rule still stands: you do not have permission to wield the weapons, however makeshift they are, against each other at any point unless under instruction or under supervision. Is that understood?"  
"Yes, ma'am!"

As she strode away, her usual scowl in place, Peter turned to face Sirius again. "Let's have a go, one more time, Sirius."

Their dark-haired friend lifted his weapon's tip, an amused smirk on his face. "So eager are we, to lose again?"

"The more practice, the better!" Peter said. "Should we come face to face with a fight, I'd like to be prepared."

"Let us hope it does not get to that point," Sirius said.

"It will not get to that point," Remus told them, confidently. "We are almost to my Hold where safety awaits us."

Sirius' smirk grew bigger. "Very well. The winner of this duel gets the first pick of rooms at the Lupin Hold."

Suddenly, Peter lunged, and let out a peal of delighted laughter when he managed to smack Sirius on the upper arm and Rick awarded him the match. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but it looks like you'll have to wait in line with every one else because I believe I just won."

**0-0-0-0-0**

James licked his fingers, an act that would no doubt make company frown and, for the more austere, gain him a swat on the hand. Suffice to say it was an unmannerly action, but as he was in the company of no such people, he permitted himself to perform it. As it was, he was alone in a small town pub, with only the pub owner and his wife and their hired hand, all of which were paying no attention to him whatsoever as he ate.

The sweet juice of the plum ran down his arm, his tongue not quite fast enough to catch every drop. It left him wet and sticky, but he didn't mind too much – he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything so good.

Showered, refreshed and well-fed, James was feeling more optimistic than ever. It was like taking a deep breath after a waking nightmare, which, he supposed, was a very close analogy.

With the passes from most villages cleared and open, he would be able to get to Peter all the faster. To keep himself from encountering any soldiers, he stuck to less-traveled paths. The time wasted doing so was better than getting caught in an unwanted situation: after all, he was traveling alone.

He absently tossed the pit of his fruit into a waste bin and wiped his hands on the napkin next to his plate. All he needed now was a nice long nap to soothe his weary body.

"All done, then, sir?" the owner of the tavern asked, as if on cue, as he exited from the back kitchen.

"I haven't any complaints," James responded, with a vigorous nod. "Nor have I any room left," he added, patting his stomach. He'd been weary and hungry from his journey so he'd been lucky that this place kindly offered him a hot meal and a chance to relax. It was way past the lunch hour and too early for dinner but they still showered James with an excellent meal.

"You're too kind," the man, named Marley, laughed as he whisked the plate away. It was a good sound to hear, laughter. It seemed as though it were a rarity, given the times. Now that the immediate threat of the Russian Army was gone, however, people were doling it out with much more enthusiasm.

Affected by it, James grinned. "I really do appreciate it. You should not have gone out of your way for me."

"It was an honor." For this small town hardly ever saw the Nobility not to mention the fact that they rarely had a chance to host them. James' sudden arrival seemed to stir the townspeople into a celebration. "We heard of what you did for Hogsmeade Village. You are a hero, sir."

James almost snorted, but refrained from doing so. One unmannerly action was enough for the day. Instead, he wrinkled his nose and protested, "I am no hero, Marley – in fact, if the villagers of Hogsmeade hadn't come, I'm sure…"

"You still led the Academy and made a stand against impossible odds," Marley cut in, moving toward the kitchen as he spoke, carrying the dirty dishes to the sink. His voice grew muffled, but James could still discern whatever it was that he was saying. "The only thing the villagers managed to do was scare those ruffians away with their numbers."

"And thank Heaven for that!" James agreed, letting out a laugh of his own. It was a warm sound; something most girls turned their heads to. "But it was still the element of surprise that saved the day."

Marley came back out, this time, carrying a tankard of ale toward him. "A drink," he explained, at James' questioning look. "To celebrate."

"We should not celebrate just yet."

The bartender told him, "Do not dampen the spirit of the journey before it's taken." He lifted another tankard in salute and James mimicked his actions, automatically.

Together, they toasted the task.

To the end of the war.

The ale was bitter and sharp, contrasting strongly against the taste of plum that James had just eaten. Somehow, it mixed in nicely and he chugged the drink down before the flavor had a chance to change on him.

Marley did not down the drink quite as quickly, watching as the student set his mug down with a bit of a bang and let out a breath of pure bliss. "Whatever that was, it's the best I've had," James announced.

The elder man smiled behind his drink and took a long swallow. Then, he invited James to stay for a little longer, but the boy declined, politely. "I've dallied long enough as it is," the boy said. "I have set myself a half day behind – there's no telling what the rest of the Russian Army is doing."

"And where exactly are you going?" Marley asked.

"To find some help," James answered, vaguely. At the frown he received, he reluctantly added, "It's a piece away, so I'll have to leave as soon as possible." He planned to go to Hopecrest Village and retrieve Peter and Sirius. From there, they would meet up with the rest of the students at Remus' Hold. Afterwards, he'd have to find a way to reinforce the treaties England had with other countries. Hopefully, having Peter with him would make things a bit easier.

Marley said, "But you've only just got here!"

James tapped his finger on his empty tankard. "I know. And my horse will not appreciate being pushed so hard, but things are…complicated."

The elder man sighed, most probably in resignation to the fact that James' answers were so obscure. He decided to drop the subject. "Do you have enough food for the journey?"

"I should like to stock up on some. And I should like to buy fodder for my horse as well."

Again, Marley raised his glass to his lips to and took a swallow. "You might want to try the Dosset stables, then. Tanza's got the best horses here in Engistown – people say it's because of what he feeds them. If those soldiers hadn't been blocking the passages to Hogsmeade Village, Tanza's prizes would have won at the races in the Festival."

Or whatever there had been at the Festival before it had been hastily pulled apart to bring help to the Academy, anyway.

James shook his head. "No, Engistown was lucky that it did not share in the fate that Hogsmeade Village experienced."

Marley thoughtfully swished the rest of his drink around, eyeing the dark liquid with a faraway look in his eyes. "I suppose you're right. No one ever thinks to look twice here." Engistown's population was less than half that of Hogsmeade's and held simple folk who worked mostly on farmlands. James was surprised that news of the infiltration had managed to make it out to the remote location so fast. His musings were cut short when the door was suddenly thrown open, banging against the wall hard enough to make the tables around the bar rattle.

James almost dropped his glass in his surprise, and luckily nothing was in it any more because the drink would have sloshed over the counter and the floor. He gasped when a man pushed himself inside.

A soldier.

Reflexively, his free hand flew to his sword and he got partway out of his seat until he realized that the man was attired in the uniform of the King's Army.

"We need help!"

Recovering slightly from his shock, James noticed that the soldier was supporting a wounded person, blood staining the rich blue material of his clothing.

Marley came around the bar and had to push chairs and tables out of the way, to make room for the advancing soldier.

"We have more injured people outside." Even as he spoke, more soldiers entered, most of them carrying with them wounded people. "We'll need supplies." Turning to the James, who was watching them warily, he snapped, "You, boy. Go find the Healer."

Biting back a flippant response, James lifted his chin. "What's going on? What happened?" A sense of foreboding started to twist in his stomach and he knew better than to ignore it. So far, his instincts had been correct and he continued to keep his hand tightly clutching his weapon. There was no telling whether this pocket of the Army was still faithful to the Crown.

"Are you blind?" The soldier demanded, angrily. "We were attacked! Don't stand there like a ninny and - "

"Quentin, _do_ calm down before you give yourself a heart failure," someone ordered, in a long-suffering way. It still held the sharp sting of a rebuke and command, because Quentin visibly flinched. Together, he and James looked up to see another man weave his way into the tavern. As he walked, he unhooked his cape to reveal splatters of blood and dirt on the hard plating underneath. The cape itself was ripped beyond repair and was decorated in much the same manner. He frowned as he swiftly took in his surroundings, most likely assessing whether the place would be sufficient for their needs.

When his gray eyes landed on James the boy let go of his the death grip on his sword. "Sir Cyath?"

Cyath blinked and stared at him, clearly startled.

Stepping forward, James announced, "It's me, James Potter!"

The eyes widened in recognition. "Gracious, so it is!" his big hand came out to fall heavily on James' shoulder. "First Sir Sirius and Sir Peter and now you. Where then, is my son?"

Feeling more than confused, James decided on answering his question before voicing his own. "I am alone, sir."

"So very far from Hogsmeade," Cyath said, somewhat absently as he watched his soldiers hurry inside. Marley's wife and the hired hand had exited the kitchens to see what was going on and were now busily trying to help move things out of the way to make some more space.

"If you would, my lord," James ventured, "have you met with Sirius and Peter, then?"

Again, the gray eyes snapped to him, the sudden full attention somewhat disorienting. "You mean to say that you haven't?"

James shook his head, completely at a loss.

"We met briefly at Hopecrest before I sent them ahead toward the Academy," Cyath told him, grimly. "They bore a message from the Queen for the Headmaster. I'm quite surprised they haven't reached their destination. We parted ways half a week ago!"

The dread that James felt intensified tenfold at his words. "I told Sirius to stay put until I gave him a signal…" he heard himself protest.

Cyath, whose eyes had begun wandering the tavern again, flicked back to him. "If Hopecrest hadn't been attacked, I'm sure they would have, lad. Alas, they were forced to flee."

Dumbly, James could only stare at him as his news echoed in his mind. Hopecrest? Attacked?

Well, he guessed there was a little relief in the knowledge that they had managed to get away. That relief quickly turned sour at the thought that no one knew where they were any more.

His plan had failed even before it began.

Moody's words came back to him. _"Expect your plans to fail the first time around." _Mentally, James scowled and told the voice to shut up. He hated that he didn't have a solid plan to fall back on.

Around them, the soldiers finished filing in and those that weren't injured called out for Sir Cyath who politely excused himself saying, "We have much to discuss. In the meantime, I could use your help very badly in finding some supplies. We are also in need of a Healer."

"Wait," James said, quickly forgetting the resentment that he still felt at being used by Moody, "tell me: how did Hopecrest fare?"

Cyath paused, and his expression turned from worried, to sorrowful. "It fell." He said, shaking his head once. "We were far outnumbered and we had to retreat." He seemed to swallow around a lump in his throat before continuing. "Hopecrest was burned to the ground and there was nothing I could do about it."

A village, lost. James had difficulty digesting that information. The war, it seemed, was turning brutal. The fact that James had declared that war and Toma's ruthless response made his head spin. "H-how…?" he gasped, having difficulty trying to comprehend the scale of the repercussions of his decisions. "Were there any survivors?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. From what I've seen, however, I fear the worst."

The man, whom James had always regarded as confident and sure, was on the brink of tears. His hands creaked in their bloodstained gauntlets, as he looked out over his men. "I thought I had everything under control. We eliminated the section of Toma's Army that we had been grouped with when we came across His Highness and Sir Sirius so that no one would know of the their whereabouts.

"Not a day later, however, another section of the Army came and proceeded to decimate Hopecrest. Men, women…even children were slaughtered." He closed his eyes against the memory and he cleared his throat against another lump in his throat. "I have yet to do a headcount of the remaining soldiers I have under my command here."

James glanced around at the soldiers, assessing them as best as he could. Most of them looked worse for the wear. The battle had probably gone on for quite a while and their travel to Engistown must have been very difficult with the condition they were in. Those that were strong enough wore expressions that were haunted and James was glad that he had not been witness to the event. The experiences at the Academy were quite enough, thank you. Fresh and deep, those memories would not leave him any time soon, he was sure.

Whatever optimism had filled James earlier was evaporating quickly. In an effort to bring Sir Cyath and himself a bit of assurance, he said, "If it makes you feel better, Sir, there are troops within H.W. Academy that have taken a stand and are in good health. And, as we speak, your son is leading all the students toward safety at your Hold."

He expected Cyath to be pleased; he did not expect the man's face to drain of all color. Again, his strong hands fell on James' shoulders, this time giving him a shake that was enough to rattle James' confidence. "What?"

The shout made every head in the room turn to them, and James, bewildered, wheezed, "The King's Army is stationed at the Academy and the students travel to your Hold…"

"God above!" The man's voice sounded like a thunderous roar that bundled anger, shock and despair into a tight ball. His grip tightened to the point where James winced and had to tug the hands free from his shoulders.

"My lord…what is it? What happened?"

Lowering his head, Cyath tried to compose himself. "I had feared that they would take that course of action. I had bid Sir Sirius and His Highness to head for the hills because I had to be certain of the loyalties that lay within my Hold"

"Loyalties?" James echoed in disbelief. "They are the King's Army! There is no way they would break their oaths to the Crown!"

"I had every belief in the same thing," Cyath said, bitterly. "I never dreamed that my own House would turn against us." His gray eyes glittered in fury. "But they did. Hopecrest fell, not to Toma's Army, but our own. I watched as they set the flag of my House afire along with everything in that village. My Army, led by my son, killed thousands of people and have turned against the Crown that they swore to protect."

James became aware of the fact that the room began to blur and that Sir Cyath had to catch him as he stumbled backward. A part of him was alarmed at the queasiness in his stomach and he wished he could blame the drink for making the world seem to tilt, but it was the news caught him off guard. Forcing back the bile that tried to rise up in his throat, he managed to slump onto the nearest bar stool. Marley soon had him nursing a cup of water, and Sir Cyath peered down at him, worriedly.

It wasn't possible.

It _couldn't_ be possible.

Was there no where left where it was safe?

He felt like his final chess piece had been knocked over.

All his options, all the possible plays he'd tried to foresee, came to an abrupt halt The victory at the Academy had been a short-lived one and with a stab of fear, he realized that he had sent everybody into a trap.

Toma had backed them all into a corner.

Hopes sinking, James could think of only one word to describe the situation.

Checkmate.

Another thought came to him, adding more anxiety to his already frayed nerves. "No one was supposed to know you were in Hopecrest. How is it that the Army found you so soon?" It could not have possibly been a coincidence. Someone must have let slip their plans.

Suddenly, Sir Cyath's dark expression seemed to make more sense.

"You were betrayed," James whispered, in realization, half in fear, half in awe. "But…by who?"

Cyath actually gnashed his teeth. "Believe me, I intend to find out."

**0-0-0-0-0**

Hot water.

Fresh food.

Servants.

A soft bed.

…Luxuries.

It was all too easy to fall into the trap of comfort with those.

Having to go from one extreme to the next was disappointing. Well, all those kids from the Academy who'd been pampered for the whole of their lives were probably in shock.

All luxuries were lost.

The thought alone, although a bit cruel, was amusing.

The most disappointing thing was…

"What's so funny?"

Lily blinked, almost losing her balance. Pavel stood just to her side, one hand resting on his hip while the other gripped a towel. Standing in the spots where the sunlight hit, he seemed to light up, like some sort of chiseled statue come to life, out of place in the forest. His gaze, which had been roaming their surroundings casually, was now focused on her, and a frown etched itself onto his handsome features as he bent down to put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from toppling over into the water she was freshening up in.

"Nothing," Lily told him, gratefully taking the towel from him when he offered it to her. She proceeded to pat her face and hands dry, trying not to feel self-conscious. She hadn't meant to space out.

Pavel went back to scanning their surroundings and Lily skipped away from the bank to his side. At Master Edmund's insistence, all students were to be accompanied by another so that no one went missing and that safety could be enforced. Pavel had been kind enough to offer to escort her to the stream, and she had graciously accepted.

As they made their way back to camp together in a silent companionship, her mind wandered again, remembering the times when she'd walked next to another silent companion. She remembered his straw-colored hair and the way it had been jaggedly cut. She remembered his emotionless face and his monotone voice. In her mind's eye, Lily could clearly hear his laughter and see the sparkle in his eyes – two things she had had the luxury of being privy to. Two things that he had not allowed anyone else to see.

Luxuries again.

"What's wrong?"

Lily glanced up, feeling herself flush at being caught daydreaming for the second time in a row. This time, she shook her head. "Sorry," she murmured. "I was remembering…" _Aesalon_. She couldn't bear to say his name.

"Lady, if my presence makes you uncomfortable…" Pavel started to say, but Lily quickly waved the notion away.

"No. It's not that, Pavel." She fingered the necklace that James had given her. "I like you. A lot. It's just…" She twirled the flower around between her thumb and middle finger, nervously. Aesalon's image was quickly replaced with James' and she felt her heart constrict anew. "I have James," she finished, somewhat lamely. She hadn't noticed that they'd stopped walking.

Pavel burrowed his hands into his pockets, scuffing at the floor with a boot. The ground protested against the harsh treatment by covering the black leather with angry streaks of dirt.

Lily glanced over her shoulder in the general direction where she supposed H.W. Academy was situated. "I know we haven't been dating long," she turned back to Pavel, who was still fidgeting, "and it may seem childish and a bit strange for someone my age, but…I love him. And I'm sure, he loves me too."

Pavel's words were short and cutting. "He _left_ you. He chose to go to war instead of staying by your side."

She wanted to get mad. She wanted to tell him that it was none of his business. She wanted to come up with excuses, but she had none to give. Instead, Lily lifted her chin. "I know…" she whispered.

"And even still?" Pavel demanded. "You would want to be with someone who would rather hold onto his pride instead of protecting the woman that he loved?"

"I would rather be with someone who kept his word," Lily told him, trying to keep her voice steady. "He has pledged himself to the service of His Majesty even before he met me. It is not my place to hold him by my side, no matter how much I want him by me." She paused, before adding, "I can't be selfish. I don't like the path he's chosen, but I want to support it." As she said the words, she felt a little bit of the weight on her chest lift.

Loving someone was giving them the freedom to make decisions.

Again, Pavel gave the ground an angry kick. "You deserve so much better." He finally glared at her.

Lily found herself smiling despite the tears in her eyes. "James promised me he'd come back. He said he would."

She felt Pavel touch her arm. "I've upset you," he said, apologetically. "I didn't mean to…"

"I'm sorry," Lily brought a hand up to swipe them away. "I can't help but be worried. He was supposed to be here by now. What if…"

He huffed, giving her a light shove. "Sir James is remarkably resilient. If what you said is true, he'll fulfill his promise to you one way or another."

She tried to smile at his sudden reassurance. "I'm sorry," she offered, again.

"I get flustered with women who cry," Pavel grumbled, and despite herself, Lily giggled. He sighed and said, "You really do deserve better, you know." He retracted his hand. "I had no right to say what I did. If anyone is sorry, it's me." He shrugged. "I'm not happy with your decision, but I suppose there isn't much I can do about it."

Lily let the pendant fall back to rest in the hollow of her throat as he began to walk forward again. "In his place, I shall take care of you until he returns," he announced. "Then the bastard will forever be indebted to me."

Taking one last look over her shoulder, Lily hurried to catch up. When she reached his side, he offered his arm to her in a gentlemanly manner and she accepted it.

She'd been mistaken.

Chivalry was one luxury they hadn't lost yet.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN:** Argh. I had to scrap, write, re-write, edit and re-edit this chapter what feels like 101 times. It's travelled with me to different airports, hotel rooms, lunch breaks and whatever downtime I could find to write. If there was ever a time I wanted to give up writing this story, it was with this chapter.

It was you, my readers, my reviewers, who encouraged me not to abandon this. Thank you. I will continue writing so long as inspiration lives. Please, tell me your thoughts.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	26. Finding Common Ground

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…_

* * *

**AN: ** Finally. Finally, finally, FINALLY! After 8 renditions of this chapter, I have something that passed inspection. For those of you who continually gave me encouragement throughout this rather long period of writing, I thank you from the bottom of my heart! Without you, this story would have been abandoned all together what with the frustration I was feeling. But no, it goes on!

I know it's been a while and I do give my apologies. Please remember that fanfiction is not how I make my lifestyle (though I wish it was!). So, because real life (unfortunately) gets in the way, I will do my best to update and write when I can. Inspiration plays a huge role in finishing chapters, too, so thank you once again for those who have given me that inspiration in the form of reviews, PMs and tweets to keep going. Welcome back, old friends! Welcome new readers! Please enjoy.

Onward.

* * *

_Previously: _

_"Be certain of loyalties?" James echoed in disbelief. "They are the King's Army! There is no way they would break their oaths to the Crown!"_

_"I had every belief in the same thing," Cyath said, bitterly. "I never dreamed that my own House would turn against us." His gray eyes glittered in fury. "But they did. Hopecrest fell, not to Toma's Army, but our own. I watched as they set the flag of my House afire along with everything in that village. My Army, led by my son, killed thousands of people and have turned against the Crown that they swore to protect."_

_It wasn't possible._

_It__couldn't__be possible._

_Was there no where left where it was safe?_

_With a stab of fear, he realized that he had sent everybody into a trap._

_Toma had backed them all into a corner._

_Another thought came to him, adding more anxiety to his already frayed nerves. "No one was supposed to know you were in Hopecrest. How is it that the Army found you so soon?" It could not have possibly been a coincidence. Someone must have let slip their plans._

_Suddenly, Sir Cyath's dark expression seemed to make more sense._

_"You were betrayed," James whispered, in realization, half in fear, half in awe. "But…by who?"_

_Cyath actually gnashed his teeth. "Believe me, I intend to find out."_

* * *

**Chapter 26**

**- Finding Common Ground -  
**

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

That alone was suspicious.

The wind snapped the flags on the towers above, the sound seeming to echo across the plain. Two of them were unrecognizable, and if anyone was paying much attention, they'd have noticed that several of the usual colorful banners were missing.

The Hold stretched for miles. It was so big that it seemed to be its own city and it may as well have been. Home to more than 10,000 people – soldiers, staff, families - it was always teeming with life.

Training was round the clock, with new hopefuls coming in daily. Most couldn't handle the pressure and walked out before the first week even ended. Those that stayed had to work hard to earn their statuses, but it was something every man took pride in. Soldiers who had not completed their training did not dare to walk out the gates of the Main Entrance again. It would be a disgrace.

That the courtyards were as still as stone was rather disconcerting and brought with it a sense of foreboding, but Remus shrugged it off. After all, it was war time. Most of the army had been split apart, according to Sir Rick, so it was understandable if activity was not as intense as usual.

Lucius said something beneath his breath, most probably a curse but no one called him out on it because there were no ladies present. With the exception of Sirius, Peter and Dane, all the other students had been left behind.

"I still think you should have stayed with the others," Sirius told the young Prince, his disapproval evident in his voice. "If there is anything amiss, it would be better that you are out of harm's way."

"Hide? Again?" Peter whined. "I want to help this time around!" Before any of the others could protest, he pushed on, petulantly. "Who amongst us is most capable of persuading our hosts other than me?" When no answer was forthcoming, he smugly stuck his chin out in a self-satisfied way.

Lucius flicked his cape. "Well. Let us hope that our hosts will welcome us warmly, if at all."

"They've no reason to turn us away," Remus said, with a shake of his head.

"Then let us make this quick. We are all of us weary," said Sirius, before an argument could arise. He wasn't all that fond of having to travel with Lucius either, but he wanted as smooth a journey as possible. Without waiting for them to respond, he led them forward.

The front gates were tightly closed, two guards standing outside it, vigilantly. They were imposing figures dressed fully in their armor and bristling with weapons. They snapped their spears together when the group made their presence known.

"Announce yourselves!" One of them commanded.

Remus pushed forward. "I am the youngest son of the Lord of this House. I request entrance for my company and I."

The other soldier stared down at him with narrowed eyes. "You are Sir Cyath's son?"

"That I am. And you?" for he did not recognize their faces. It wasn't too surprising because there were too many soldiers to be acquainted with. These men had probably been enlisted while he'd been away at school. Both were only slightly taller than him but Remus still felt as though he had to crane his neck in order to stare back.

"I am known as Cyprian Youdle, sir," the first one said. "And my partner - "

"—I will not make acquaintances," the other soldier cut in, gruffly. His grip on his weapon tightened. "Be gone from here at once." And with that, he moved forward, menacingly.

In confusion, Remus stepped back. "I beg your pardon?"

"Just as I said, lad," the soldier said, sounding annoyed. "Or do you need me to make myself clear?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucius demanded. "How dare you deny entry to one of the House!"

Cyprian looked torn between wanting to argue with his partner and agreeing with him. He cast the group a weary look. "Apologies, good sirs. But…"

"Is something the matter?" Peter asked, piping up from his position behind Remus. Beside him, Sirius shifted uneasily in his spot, not liking the way the situation was going. "We have come here on Sir Cyath's orders," the Prince insisted. "If you do not let us pass, it will be call for counsel."

Though the soldiers did not voice their question, it was apparent in their exchanged glances as they took in the capes and the pendants of the Elites that were present. The gaze of the soldier settled on Peter as he spoke. "Listen," he tried again, "please believe me when I say that we wish you no ill, but I really cannot let you in, no matter who you may be. Things here are -"

Before he could finish his sentence, the doors opened slightly, causing all of them to start.

"Youdle. Gawain." Another soldier stepped past the threshold and nodded to the two men as he acknowledged them, one gauntleted hand holding the door steady.

"Emeric? It is early yet for a change of guard," Cyprian said, and although he sounded calm about it, there was a notch in his voice that Remus caught. He felt his heart leap to his throat and then promptly try to sink to his toes as the feeling of foreboding increased. He took another step back just as Emeric glanced over to the group. "These people were spotted from a distance. The Commanding Officer demands that you arrest them and take them into custody at once."

Gawain planted the butt of his spear firmly into the ground. "They are just passers-by. There is no need to detain their likes."

Hastily, Cyprian added, "In fact, they were just leaving."

"I'm afraid we can't let them go," Gawain said gravely, and as he spoke, he pushed the door open the rest of the way, revealing a pocket of the army, ready to fight if need be. "Orders are orders."

At the head of the column, stood Medwin, his face impassive. Raising his hand in a silent command, the soldiers moved forward to surround the group.

Pressing up against each other, ensuring Peter was in the middle, Lucius made to draw his sword, but Dane stopped him. "No," he hissed, "they are too many. Do not risk getting hurt."

Lucius' words of protest were lost to Remus as he stared at his elder brother in disbelief. This time, his heart thundered in his ears. He felt numb all over; hot and cold at the same time. The looks on his friends' faces spoke volumes of their own confusion and fear. He felt the hands of the soldiers restraining him as though from far away and heard his bewildered voice crying, "Sir Medwin…? Impossible! Why?"

"You're still so naive, Sir Remus," Medwin told him, with a heavy sigh. To his soldiers, he said, "take them away."

As the five of them were towed inside, they trampled upon a banner that had fallen (or was it placed there purposely?) on the ground.

The crest of the Royal House adorned it.

In shock, Remus raised his head to survey the parapet and saw that it had been replaced by the flag of the Russian Nation.

Behind them, the door shut with a bang of finality.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Lily angrily stomped her way through the thicket of trees, dragging her fingers through her matted, red hair in an attempt to make it look less like a wild fire. When her nails did nothing more than rip strands out, she quit trying, bending over to pick up a twig. She would have to resign herself to making sure it stayed out of the way if it refused to be tamed. With a flick of her wrist, she managed to pin the locks back in the style she'd had to resign herself to since this journey began.

Resuming her pace, she stopped before the camp, surveying the students as they settled in groups to eat their end-of-day meal. The sun setting behind them gave off a harsh light that forced her to shield her eyes.

Severus leaned casually against a tree close by, his long nose hidden behind his book as usual. His dark eyes turned away from the page to gaze at her in silent question and as if that was all the prodding that she needed, Lily huffed, "Honestly! Sir Lucius left me behind because he thinks I'm incompetent! It's got nothing to do with the fact that I'm a woman." She sneered the last word as she threw herself down beside her fellow Elite.

When he did not respond, she glared at him. "You think so, too, don't you?" she accused.

Sighing, Severus put his book down to give her his undivided attention. "We have a responsibility to the students," he said, in a pacifying way. "If we leave them, they will be like lost sheep."

Lily mentally let loose a string of words that are best not mentioned. Still not convinced, she snapped, "That is what Professors and Headmasters are for."

Her companion seemed to flinch and in exasperation, he snapped back, "That is so. But even if you were to have gone with Sir Lucius and the others, do you think any of the army would deign to listen to a woman?" At her sharp intake of breath, he shook his head. "That's the truth of the matter, my Lady. Women are not expected to know anything about war and tactics. While I may respect you for all your courage and persistence, let's be realistic. Not everyone else agrees with me."

Now, she didn't know whether to blush or feel discouraged. She thought over his words and leaned against his arm while her fingers played with a blade of grass by her thigh. "As an Elite…I feel pretty useless," she said. "I feel like I can only stand by the sidelines and watch as things happen." She looked up at him. "When will I be able to make a difference?"

She was surprised when he didn't move to pull away, instead, reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Sir James will skin us alive if anything were to happen to you," he told her, and she couldn't help her confused frown at his response (and his actions!). "Do you really think that making a difference means you must put yourself in harm's way? Sir Lucius did not say it, but he does not wish to have you hurt, which is why he made you stay here." When she opened her mouth to protest, he continued, firmly, "Those of us who are better with words than with actions were left behind to keep a semblance of order with the students."

His dark eyes never left her face when he spoke, his voice like silk, so serious and authoritative that it was no wonder he'd been made an Elite. When he spoke, there was no choice but to listen to what he had to say. "The Elites are well-respected. More so than Professors, I dare say," he added, thoughtfully. "Would you rather not go to one of your peers for advice first before going to a teacher?"

Well…

He _did_ have a point.

"We cannot act rashly. We cannot cater to our own whims. If we do, no one will take us seriously in the future. Do you understand?"

Lily let out a frustrated breath. "Yes…" she grudgingly allowed, letting the blade of grass go.

His smile was unexpected. "Are you done sulking?" he taunted.

She made a face at him. "Don't tell me you _like_ being left behind!"

He shrugged. "It's another duty." He picked up his book and absently flipped the pages. "In truth, Philologi are people who work as advisors. They work behind the scenes. Being left behind here is no different. I take it as another step toward my goal of being chosen by His Majesty."

Round-eyed, Lily stared at him in wonder. Jumping to her feet, she announced, "I can't help admiring you. You are really impressive, Severus!" Then, realizing that she'd forgotten to address him properly, she tentatively asked, "…May I call you that?" When he returned her wide-eyed look, she hurriedly added, "You know…I don't have any friends on the Ring of Elites. And…I know we don't talk much…but…I feel comfortable around you. And you always seem to know what kind of advice to give me. And…" realizing she was babbling, she promptly stopped herself and awkwardly turned away. "Anyway, I should - "

He cut her off by grabbing her hand. "Lady, do calm down," he said, gently, and somehow, even though it was uncharacteristic of him, it made her feel at ease. When he tugged at her hand, she reluctantly faced him again. "I am not Sir Aesalon," he said after a while when she met his gaze once more.

"I know," she said, quietly. "I never thought to replace him with you. I just…I feel like I could tell you anything."

Two pink spots appeared on the man's sallow cheeks and he let her hand go. "What makes you think I wish to hear your whining?" he asked, gruffly.

She grinned, crouching down next to him, seeing past his demeanor. "Aw, admit it. You're not only a romantic type, but a real big softie!" she poked him, teasingly with her elbow.

He let out a small groan, the two pink spots darkening somewhat and he tried to glare at her but was not so successful. Another smile was touching his lips which he was struggling hard to conceal without much success either. "Oh, _away _with you, woman!"

She laughed in response. "Lily. My name is Lily. You can call me that," she told him, cheekily.

Severus ducked his face behind the book once more, in an attempt to ward off any more banter.

She straightened, smoothing out her coat as she surveyed the group again. "Still, don't you find it strange?" she asked. "Shouldn't they be back by now? It's almost been a whole day!"

He did not reply, flipping a page of his book with his finger instead.

"What if something happened to them?" Lily pressed. When her companion still did not glance up, she tried again.

His voice was muffled when he spoke. "The scouts would have said something by now."

Still not convinced, she glanced again at the large crowd of students. "Sir Remus said that it would take them no more than a few hours."

Again, Severus turned another page. What he could possibly be reviewing, was beyond her. He'd been through that book again and again that Lily was certain he had it memorized. She decided that he was just out to be infuriating. She tried again. "Severus, what if something went wrong?"

"_Maxima enim patientia virtus_," he quoted, still without looking up. His voice had taken on a dryly amused, long-suffering attitude. "Patience is the greatest virtue," he explained.

She scowled at him. "I know what it means!" She'd been present at all her Latin lessons, thank you very much. She just had a bad feeling about all this, just like she'd had back at the Academy before the whole evacuation had come around. She didn't care if anyone sneered at her intuition: she'd been right before, and she knew she was right now.

His hand on hers again caused her to turn her head sharply in his direction. "Lily." His tone had lost its playful edge now, all serious. All business. "Calm down. Panicking won't help the students. It won't help you either." She honed in on the way he'd relented to using her name without a title and it somehow served to set her a little at ease. Seeing the look on her face, he said, "If they are not back by night fall, we shall send the scouts back out to investigate, all right?"

She bit her lip. "All right…"

He let her hand go and this time, when he returned to reading his book, she left him alone.

Deciding to go down to the camp to get herself a bite to eat, she ran headlong into Rick, who gasped her name. Lorien was a step behind him, his mouth pinched into a frown.

She felt the twig holding her hair back snap in two, causing her red hair to tumble in a mess about her shoulders again. "What…?"

"The horses – they're gone," Rick told her.

Blankly, she stared at him, wondering what exactly he was working himself up about.

Lorien decided to speak. "And Seth is missing."

Still not understanding, Lily waited for one of them to explain. She felt Severus' presence behind her, no doubt wanting to find out what was going on as well.

"From what I've seen and heard, Seth Bailey's style is to latch himself onto anyone who can give him the promise of a better life because he's an orphan," Rick told them. "He's already tied himself to a mercenary, no-good group called the Aurors. I've a feeling he's tied himself to other groups, too. If it weren't for Sir Peter's kind heart and the fear that he would sell us out to others, we would have left him behind."

Lily distinctly remembered Sirius' cold attitude whenever she'd mentioned Seth. She herself hadn't gotten to know the man because they hadn't been introduced. Now that she thought about it, Peter hadn't wanted them to make acquaintances.

"So, what you're saying is…he's left because he doesn't think his gamble with our group will gain him any benefit?"

Rick nodded. "I believe he lost confidence in Sir Peter and was just looking for a way to detach himself."

"Or, he could have left because he was feeling guilty over something," Lily interjected. When the men turned to stare at her incredulously, she felt herself blush. "I know it seems pessimistic and farfetched. But…doesn't it seem weird that he would disappear now, of all times?"

"He strikes me more as a cowardly type," Rick said, with a shake of his head. "He isn't the type to say goodbye and give his acknowledgements. He's the type to leave whenever the opportunity presents itself."

Lily couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness. As the men started talking amongst themselves about whether they should track Seth or not, the feeling heightened. Trying to calm herself down, she remembered what James had told her before.

_Don't look at things in one perspective, Lily. Being a Philologi means you have to be open to all possibilities, not just the one that seems most favorable. _

Maybe Sir Rick was right. Maybe Seth had just become wary of his place amongst the noblemen and had decided to find a different path.

But why take all the horses?

Why wait until Peter and the rest were gone?

Unless…

"Tracking him would be a waste of time," she announced, causing the men to stop their talks once again.

"Lady…Seth may be on his way to sell us out," Rick told her. "We can't very well fight off an entire army on our own."

He had a point. Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she hesitated before saying, "He doesn't want to be tracked."

This time, not only Rick frowned at her, but Lorien and Severus as well. So much for inputting her thoughts. Women weren't expected to know anything about tactics. Well, she'd just have to change that, wouldn't she? "Just hear me out," Lily said, before they could scoff at her observation. "If you are going to track him, how would you go about it? He's let all the horses run free – if he's gone by horseback, who knows which direction he's gone off in?"

For a long moment, they did not say a word, the reality of what she said sinking in. She saw the two pink spots appear on Severus' cheeks again and she didn't get a chance to wonder what it meant because Sir Rick heaved a sigh. "In any case, he's left without good intentions. If he plans on betraying us, I'd like to try and stop him."

The pit of dread curled like a snake, biting its fangs deep to the point where Lily actually winced. Realization spread through her so quickly that she suddenly felt light-headed when she put two and two together.

Lorien stepped up to steady her. "Lady Lily! Are you all right?"

She clutched at his arm, willing herself to not get sick, but the poison of fear was already rampant in her veins. "Oh my god…" she whispered, in horror. "What if…what if he already has?" Turning wide, green eyes to Severus, she knew what he was thinking.

The reason why Sirius and the others hadn't returned…

He slammed his book shut. "Sir Rick, Sir Lorien, it may be prudent to move camp."

"Move camp?" Sir Rick echoed, in disbelief. "If we do so, Sir Remus won't be able to locate us when they come back."

Lily spoke her fear aloud, knowing that with every word, she spoke the truth. "Sir Rick, I have a feeling they won't be coming back!

As if to prove her words correct, a scout came running toward the group, out of breath and blond hair windswept. She didn't know this man, nor did he wear any House colors that could tell her anything of his status. He didn't bother to acknowledge them, his hand waving frantically. "The…the…"

Severus' lip curled into a sneer, obviously not up to anyone's bumbling. "Spit it out, man. What is it?"

"The army…it's on its way here!"

**0-0-0-0-0**

James was exhausted.

More than exhausted.

It was sheer willpower that was keeping him from falling asleep in his saddle. That, and the fact that Sir Cyath was pushing his pocket of the army as hard as possible. His head was starting to feel very light and he clung onto the reins with a death grip.

Already, the Hold was within sight. James knew that if they met with any opposition, they would be in no shape to fight them. At the very least, he wouldn't be, anyway. After all, stamina could only last for so long. He'd spent his three times over, he was certain. The food and drink he'd had back in Engistown had served its purpose and was long since gone from his system. He didn't know what he wanted more: sleep or food.

By the time the Commanding Officer ordered them to a halt, the ex-Elite was already half-asleep and he stumbled as he slid off his horse.

They were deep into the forest now, following a trail that James was glad was already marked out for them because he was not up to having to scout on top of everything else. This was the Army's territory and so he was more than happy to fall in line with the rest of them as commands were issued.

One of the soldiers who went by the name of Quentin (and James couldn't for the life of him remember the man's surname), had to steady him as he swayed in his spot. "Careful there, lad," the man said and the moment he touched his arm, James hissed at the ice-cold contact.

Quentin clucked his teeth. "Oh, heavens, you're burning up."

James silently cursed his luck. He'd known he wasn't feeling up to par but he'd chalked it up to his fatigue. As if Quentin's utterance were a trigger, his whole body began to throb, aching from his very bones. His stomach twisted itself into a knot and he realized that it was not hunger after all. The very thought of food threatened to make him vomit.

Alarmed, James bent over to rest his head against his horse's side, the musky smell of animal and sweat rising up to greet him. He almost did hurl, but managed to keep it down. "I…I'm fine…I just…need…"

"You need rest, that is what," Quentin advised him, steering him away from the animal and toward the nearest tree. James could do nothing to fight against him, allowing the man to force him into a sitting position. "From what I've heard, you've been through quite a lot of trouble these past few weeks."

He couldn't have been more accurate.

"Maybe you should have stayed in Engistown?"

James groaned and shook his head. "No. No…you don't understand…"

"Oh, I understand, all right," Quentin huffed, sounding almost angry. "You are willing to risk your health and slow us down while you're at it."

"No…" protested the student. "I merely…"

Quentin suddenly snapped to attention and James realized it was because Sir Cyath himself had come over to investigate. He tried to raise himself from the floor, but was unable to.

Oh dear, he really was sick.

"I'm sorry, sir," he apologized. "You and your men should go on without me."

Cyath knelt next to his side. "It seems your shock has finally caught up with you," the man said, touching his forehead and peering into his eyes. "That's to be expected." He tilted James head from one side to the other. "You're in luck. We are forced to stop because we've found interesting tracks littering the forest floor. While we investigate, you may rest. You need water and sleep." And his tone left no room for argument.

James snapped his mouth shut and nodded his head in deference.

The man patted his shoulder. "Good man," he said. "If you can stand, there is a brook nearby. If not, I can have someone bring you a drink."

Although he had not been demeaning like Moody, James still felt slightly offended and did not like it one bit. He forced himself to his feet. He did not want to be treated as a child, nor as an invalid. "No, sir. I can do it myself."

Cyath appraised him again for a moment before nodding and turning back to his army. "Right then, you lot. Fall in order!" he shouted, and immediately, his soldiers scrambled to do as bid. It showed James just how much the Commander was respected and feared and how disciplined his men were.

He made a mental note to himself to apologize for his assuming anger. The man had not been trying to make him feel useless. Maybe Moody made his men feel like incompetent tools, but Cyath seemed genuinely worried for each of his. Maybe that was the difference between a Commander and an Optivus.

The thought was troubling, but James was not able to dwell on it for very long. He found himself swaying on his feet and trying to keep the nausea at bay. If worse came to worse, he would ask to be left behind. Quentin was right: he couldn't expect the Army to stop just because of him.

Pushing himself forward, James wandered to the source of water that Cyath pointed him to.

Mosquitoes had decided to take it upon themselves and try to feast on his exposed skin. Waving them away, the ex-Elite headed for the brook, wanting to shed his clothing and all his gear because it was unbearably hot. Hopping onto a rock by the stream, he removed his pack and buried his fingers in his hair in frustration. Had he made the right choice in coming with the Army?

According to Sir Cyath, Peter and Sirius were supposed to have reached the Academy by now. It could be that they had just missed each other.

It could also be that his friends were not at the Academy because they had encountered more of the army-turned-rebels on the way.

Or worse…

James didn't want to think it, but his mind cruelly provided the words for him.

_They might already be dead._

If so, going on a search for them would have been just as pointless.

He was torn between wanting to turn back and giving up entirely.

"Augh…" he groaned, as his thoughts began down another troubling trail. If he had gone on a runaround looking for Peter and Sirius, there would be no way word would get to Remus in time. They were walking right into a trap, and James was the one responsible for it.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

He hated this mental debate.

It was getting harder to think, what with his head pounding more furiously by the minute. Try as he might to concentrate, he couldn't. Dipping his hand into the cool water, he splashed some on his face and his arms, trying to revive himself a little.

They were on the losing end of the battle.

Was there any point in trying to fight back?

_Giving up isn't an option_, James told himself, sternly, surprised at his sudden negativity.

He sat back on his haunches after taking several long gulps of water. Droplets clung to his face and hair, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. The cool metal of the pendant around his neck made him shiver and he absently grasped it, twirling it in his fingers as he had often done when he'd been an Elite.

It suddenly clicked, and worriedly, he peered down to see if he'd broken the clasp. If he had, Lily would never forgive him.

To his surprise, he saw a picture of himself within. A warmth filled his heart at knowing that he was important enough to Lily that she kept a picture of him with her wherever she went. On the other side of the locket, was a picture of what must have been her parents. His eyes were drawn to her mother. Lily had gotten her red hair and green eyes from her. But that wasn't the most striking thing about the photo.

It was the fact that the couple looked _so happy_.

He couldn't help but compare the family portrait to that of his own parents, whose smiles were plastered, whose eyes were blank.

Suddenly, he found himself missing Lily more than ever before. Why he was so enamored with the girl, he had yet to figure out, but there was something about her that was different – refreshing. If she was there with him, he was sure he wouldn't feel half as bad. If there was anybody that he could choose to be with him right then and there, it would be her.

He would lean on her iron will.

Her strong spirit.

How shameful of him.

He really was a weak man at heart, and he hated himself for it.

Clutching the small necklace in his fist, James wondered what she was doing at the moment. Was she safe? Was she in hiding? He feared to think that they'd turned back.

No…

No, she'd promised him that she wouldn't.

"James…"

He tensed at the whisper of her voice in the wind. It made his heart twist with longing.

The whisper echoed again, a little louder and he rubbed at his forehead, wondering if he was feeling so ill that he was imagining things. Or could it be that he really was so love-stricken that his mind had resorted to playing tricks on him? If that were the case, he really _was_ a shameful man!

James got to his feet, smoothing back his hair and letting the pendant drop to his chest again. The water had helped to quell his nausea, if only a little, but it didn't do much to stop his dizziness, or his headache.

When he turned around, he almost slipped backward as the sight of Lily greeted him.

Oh…

He really must be sick.

Through a blurry vision, he regarded her with a bit of apprehension. Lily's hair fell about her shoulders, so intensely red that it hurt his eyes. She was wearing a traveling cloak instead of the normal cape that marked her status as an Elite. Despite her bedraggled appearance, she was just as he remembered her: beautiful.

Mouth going dry, he did not make a move, afraid that she would disappear from his sight.

_Just a little longer_, he thought. He wanted to keep her here for as long as possible, imaginary or not. Just the mere vision of her boosted his hopes. His heart threw itself furiously in his chest as his mind battled against the thought that it was all a dream.

All an illusion.

Something his weakened state had conjured in his moment of loneliness.

When the apparition suddenly moved, he jerked back and cried out as he lost his footing. He fell backward, right into the stream behind him, hitting his head hard enough against the rocks at the bottom to make his world go dark.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN: **So, that is where this chapter ends. I hate to leave you on a cliffhanger, yet again, but things are gonna start picking up again. Hang on for the ride if you will! I hope to hear from you. Do be kind to this authoress. Thoughts and opinions are greatly appreciated! Here's to hoping to see you in the next chapter!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	27. The Deathly Hallows

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

* * *

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim Applies…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim._

* * *

**AN: **A thousand apologies, everyone. OPTIVUS was put on the back-burner due to the inability to find direction and inspiration. Don't get me wrong, the _desire_ to write was certainly there, but having content to actually put down on paper (or again, lack thereof) was scarce.

Being the type of writer that I am, after having written numerous editions of this one chapter to the point where it became ridiculous, I decided to just quit trying. Running after words that are not there is just frustrating and depressing. I figured I'd hit the keys once the words and the ideas came to me instead of the other way around.

…And they did! Hence, this next installment, almost a year late. (Sorry!)

So, for those of you who were wondering if I'd scrapped this work, I haven't. I _refuse_ to because there are so many of you awesome people who just keep supporting me even though I fail to bring things to the table quickly enough. For that, thank you! It really _is_ your reviews and comments that keep me pondering this story until the early morning hours – I kid you not. I think my sounding boards are just sick of hearing me whine about this story and the ideas that I've come up with. This is as much for them as it is for you.

With a life as hectic as mine, I hope you understand. No - I beg you to understand and bear with me.

And I'll stop here, I promise. I know you want to get back to the story. Sorry for the long shpeal.

I'll do a quick re-cap now, for those of you who want to remember what happened in the story thus far. (For those of you who just want to continue, you can skip forward until the PREVIOUSLY section.)

Thanks for everything, yet again.

Onward.

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**RECAP: **

**- Lady Lily and Sirs Severus and Lorien are with the rest of the Academy, waiting in the forest. They think they've spotted the enemy coming for them, but really, it's a faction of the army that is headed by Sir Cyath (Remus' father) who remains faithful to the Crown. **

**- Sir Cyath is livid to have learned that his House and his army were used to destroy Engistown. He tried to save the village, but it fell in the end and he was forced to flee. Angry, he returns to his Hold to find out what is going on and to see where its loyalties lie. On his way there, he encounters the hiding students of the Academy in the forest. **

**- Sirs Remus, Peter, Sirius, Dane and Lucius have made their way to the Hold to request entry, only to find out that it has turned against the Crown. It was left in the hands of Sir Medwin (Remus' brother). They were seized and forced inside. **

**- James has gone back to the Hold with Sir Cyath, but shock has caught up to him, rendering him sick and nauseous. As he is getting himself something to drink, he thinks he sees an illusion of Lily and slips and falls backward into the water when he realizes that she's actually real.**

* * *

_Previously: _

_When James turned around, he almost slipped backward as the sight of Lily greeted him._

_ Oh…_

_ He really must be sick. _

_ Through a blurry vision, he regarded her with a bit of apprehension. Lily's hair fell about her shoulders, so intensely red that it hurt his eyes. She was wearing a traveling cloak instead of the normal cape that marked her status as an Elite. Despite her bedraggled appearance, she was just as he remembered her: beautiful. _

_ Mouth going dry, he did not make a move, afraid that she would disappear from his sight. _

_ Just a little longer, he thought. He wanted to keep her here for as long as possible, imaginary or not. Just the mere vision of her boosted his hopes. His heart threw itself furiously in his chest as his mind battled against the thought that it was all a dream._

_ All an illusion. _

_ Something his weakened state had conjured in his moment of loneliness. _

_ When the apparition suddenly moved, he jerked back and cried out as he lost his footing. He fell backward, right into the stream behind him, hitting his head hard enough against the rocks at the bottom to make his world go dark._

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**Chapter 27**

**- The Deathly Hallows -**

He became aware of someone calling his name.

"God, James!" Lily's voice was right by his ear and it was so loud that he flinched. It could not have been anything but real. "For someone who's so skilled in fighting, you've got the worst balance I've ever seen!"

More than confused, James opened his eyes slowly to see Lily bending over him. Her hands on his shoulders felt quite real and she stared down at him with a worried expression on her face. "Are you okay?"

He realized that he was sopping wet. "What…what happened?"

"Is it a concussion?" Someone demanded, before she could give him his answer. Whoever it was, was out of his line of sight. The voice was familiar though, but for some reason, he was having a hard time putting a face to it.

Lily turned to look at the newcomer. "I don't know. He seems so out of it." She faced him again. "James? You fell. I think you hit your head…"

James struggled to sit up, but it was like his arms were made out of lead. His head throbbed both inside and out; a testament that Lily had spoken the truth. His mind was spinning with the ache and with the questions he wanted to ask. He was unable to do anything more than groan.

"Let's move him," the other voice announced. "Sir James, can you hear me?"

"Wh…who…?"

"It is I, Severus."

Oh.

…Severus?

What on earth was going on?

"W…wait…" he tried to protest weakly, but he was soon being hauled to his feet and more voices joined the fray.

No, no, no! He didn't want those other people. He wanted Lily. He opened his mouth to tell them, but ended up vomiting all over the place. Hands now splayed themselves onto his forehead, and Lily's voice cried out, "He's got a fever." James was too disoriented to feel embarrassed.

More voices spoke.

"That would explain why he's so off-balance."

"Over here! Lie him down, here."

Yes, lying down sounded heavenly. He tried again to articulate what he wanted but was unsuccessful. Instead, he swiveled his head around to see if he could find Lily. He felt like he was on the cusp between being awake and being in a nightmare.

Why was he hurting all over?

He felt himself being pushed down on the ground and undressed but by who, he had no clue. He was powerless to stop the hands, though, because he was fading back into darkness again. The world narrowed into one pinpoint of colors, smells and sounds and then, disappeared all together as he fell back into unconsciousness.

The next time he woke, it was to someone carding their fingers through his hair. It felt so good that he did not want it to stop so he kept his eyes closed and feigned sleep for a little longer.

Another person settled themselves next to his side. This time, James was more alert to catch the tones and piece together who it was.

"How is he?"

Celena.

"He's resting," Lily answered, and her fingers absently trailed through his dark locks again.

"I don't even want to wonder what he's been up to," his sister sighed.

"Madam Pomphrey has stitched his wounds as best she could, but they won't hold if he decides to do something reckless. And knowing your brother, it's more than likely."

Again, James had to wonder what was going on. Lily's hand checked his temperature and she announced that his fever was still present. "He's probably worn himself out. He just needs rest."

"You speak the truth, my Lady," Quentin piped up. "The Lad's pushed himself hard. He's a stubborn one, he is."

Both girls giggled and James' ego smarted. He found the strength to talk. "Do…do not speak ill of me…while I am present," he murmured.

There was a round of laughter and he let out a breath at the sound, happy to hear it even though it was on his behalf. He felt Lily run her fingers through his hair again. "Go back to sleep, James, you need it."

There were some more words exchanged, but James was already falling back into a stupor. He tried to make sense of everything to try and figure out what was happening, but it was as if his head had been stuffed with cotton dulling his mind. He finally quit struggling and allowed himself to follow Lily's order.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"_Stubbor_n is too mild a word," Lily mused aloud, once James was fully under and Celena had excused herself. It seemed that the girl was uncomfortable in Quentin's presence. "_Obstinate_ is much better, if you ask me."

"He's always been like that," Severus agreed. "It must be some sort of Gryffindor Pride. That everlasting Black is just the same."

Lily shifted a bit so that James' head could rest on her lap. When she'd seen him by the brook, she'd wondered if she were seeing things. But his familiar action of running his hands through his hair had told her that she wasn't mistaken. On top of that, seeing the pendant around his neck had erased all other doubts that she'd had.

It was James.

The Army their scouts had spotted, it turned out, had been a faction headed by the Lead Commander, Sir Cyus Lupin, himself. And luckily for everyone, this section was loyal to their cause.

It was strange how everyone seemed to gravitate toward each other and yet, miss each other all at the same time. Just as they seemed to get over one problem, another presented itself to them almost immediately.

Would it never end?

"Why don't you like each other?" she asked, curiously, watching as Quentin left them as well in search of the Commander to let him know what had happened. She was tired of thinking about how messy loyalties could be.

"Sir James? And Sir Sirius?" her fellow Elite all but snorted. "What's there to like?"

She gave him a mild glare and he settled himself on the ground beside her. "Let's just say that things did not start off well with us," he allowed.

"Did they bully you?" she teased, and when his shoulders hunched slightly, she felt bad for prying. Obviously it was a sensitive subject and she had hit a spot.

He gave her a sidelong glance. "Gryffindors and Slytherins do not tend to be compatible with one another," he said, as if that was all the explanation he needed to give.

"That's a load of bull and you know it," Lily told him. Her use of language must have been offensive because his face took on a disapproving look. Lily didn't care. "You guys just make it your excuse so you can hate each other." Before Severus could argue, she went on, "I've made several friends from every Branch. You can't blame your House for your actions."

He did not respond and she absently trailed her fingers through James' hair again. "If it's House placement you're worried about, I was forced into this House by my father," she confessed. "My Arts and Athletic abilities are next to nothing. I didn't want to be in this Branch at all, but here I am. I've got nothing to prove that I am worthy to be in Gryffindor."

"But your Courage is astounding," Severus told her. "No woman has ever ventured into the waters of politics as you have. Courage, as I've heard it told, is the House Gyrffindor's most prized asset."

Lily's fingers stilled. She said, "I was angry. I hated that I was being put in a school where social barriers were so followed and celebrated. It was because of those social barriers that my parents were forced to separate in the first place. It wasn't courage that drove me to this goal, but resentment.

"When Master Edmund demolished the Stripe System, I couldn't understand why I was so torn. I realized it was because I had become part of your community. I'd forgotten what my goal was."

Severus finally spoke, his voice soft and silky. "And what exactly was that, my Lady?"

"To break your ridiculous customs," Lily replied, bitterly. "To show this culture how stupid their beliefs were. Since no one would listen to me because of my status, I had to change that." She looked down at James, fingers still trailing through his hair, fiddling with the ends of it. "But I realized that the position of the Elites is not to be used for selfish or petty measures. It's for the greater good." Here, she paused before asking, "Don't you think that the greater good also needs to rely on love, and not just duty or customs?"

Lily expected Severus to snort again, but he didn't. Instead, he stared off into the woods. "You are an idealistic, romantic thinker," he said, at last. His tone of voice was neither disapproving nor impressed. "You've undertaken the hardest of goals in trying to break convention, Lily."

She stretched her arms out in front of her, knitting her fingers together and pulling them gently backward. "I still want to prove that being a Commoner doesn't matter. Money and status aren't the only things we have to treasure." Glancing up at him, she realized that he had turned a little to stare at her. "My parents should not have been forced apart. Children should be allowed to grow up with both parents present – Commoner or Noble - unlike me."

Severus absently picked up a stick on the ground and began scratching at the hard earth beside him. In some ways, his silence was unnerving, but it was also comforting to know that he would not judge her for her views.

She watched his random drawing absently, not really seeing how the lines crisscrossed. The circle he made intersected with a triangle which was then overlapped with random line and then eventually the whole abstract mess was scuffed out with his foot. The next time around, he began to draw the triangle first, then the circle within, and then he proceeded to put a line through them both.

"The Deathly Hallows," Severus announced, tapping the picture with his stick emphatically.

"What?"

"This symbol," he said. "This is the Deathly Hallows."

Lily stared at it, blankly.

"Rumor has it," continued her companion, "that humankind was created this way by God," he moved the stick to touch upon each shape as he spoke. The Triangle, "Rich." The Circle, "Poor." The line that he'd created down the middle, "And the divide that separates them both. He intended for them to be part of each other but at the same time, have nothing to do with each other."

"And why are they called Deathly Hallows?" Lily asked, intrigued.

"Because, it's said that should the divide be crossed, mankind would perish. That is why most Noblemen would not dream to venture into the world of the commoner. Nor should any commoner try to fit into the world of the rich – it's considered _Hallowed _ground."

Lily blinked. "That's rubbish. Those shapes could be given any meaning."

To her surprise, Severus laughed. "I think so, too." He dropped the stick and instead, leaned backward upon his palms, regarding her again. "It is just their excuse to flaunt their statuses. But there you have it, Lily. It's reality. No matter what, there will always be someone who believes in petty things like that."

"So you don't?"

He seemed to pick his words carefully. "In some ways, I do. Those who are rich know nothing of the ways of the poor and vice versa. The lack of understanding – their choice of ignorance – is what causes the divide, which in turn makes me believe that it is better if neither world should intersect with one another. It would save us a lot of grief."

Lily hooked her elbows around her knees. "That's a little selfish, isn't it?"

He gave her a rueful smile. "It is." He shrugged. "It's a personal goal I am trying to rid myself of. I believe that those who were given the good luck of the draw have a responsibility to those who aren't quite as…fortunate. I can't help but get impatient sometimes, though."

Well, that was as personal as she'd get to him. The tone of his voice told Lily that Severus had never divulged this little weakness of his in front of anyone. She admired that he had the resolve to do something about it. His reason for becoming a Philologus made her feel much better about her own decisions.

"I told you that you were a big softie," she said, trying to lighten the mood. Those pink spots appeared on his sallow cheeks again and she reached over to squeeze his arm. "Thanks for listening, Sev."

He raised his eyebrow at the chosen nickname but did not refute it. Instead, he gave her a curt nod before rising to his feet. "Enough," he said, in a long-suffering way, "else I shall become as whimsical as you and the good Lord knows we have enough people with their heads in the clouds."

With a swish of his cloak, he left Lily sitting next to James, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows still etched in the sand.

**0-0-0-0-0**

James woke to the feel of the sun hitting his face and the sound voices that were raised in what seemed like an argument. At first, he panicked because he was unable to understand the flow of conversation until his brain kicked in and informed him that he was trying to piece together snippets that he overheard. There were too many people talking at once – too many topics - to make sense of anything.

He said the first word that came to his mind as he remembered what had transpired before he fell into the water. "Lily?"

"I'm right here, James." It came from his left and he turned his head to catch sight of the dark-red hair that framed her face and shoulders. So, he hadn't been dreaming. Despite his aching head, he grinned up at her, reaching out a hand which she promptly took hold of.

It was not a grand greeting, nor was it under the best circumstances, but in the quiet way that their eyes met, it was enough. Words were not needed.

The hubbub of noise seemed to fade into the background as James remembered his mission. "Lily…the Hold…it's been compromised," he said, trying to lift himself off the floor. Lily's other hand came up to ground him again though, her eyes narrowing in challenge. Under that glare, he resigned himself to staying stretched out beside her. "Whoever is within its walls has betrayed us to Toma."

"So I heard," Lily said, with a nod. "That's what's got everyone riled up."

"So long as you're safe," he said, his voice a partial sigh. He was suddenly very glad he was lying down because the back of his head ached something fierce. But he didn't want to let go of her hand so instead of trying to comfort the throb, he held onto her.

She trailed her free hand up toward his face, tracing the line of his jaw where a beard had started to grow over the course of the weeks they'd been apart. Even as rugged as he'd become, he was still handsome. She decided she liked his clean look better though. "You look beat up," she teased.

"I am," he grumbled, turning his chin away from her because it tickled. He did not want to tell her of the nightmares he'd witnessed, nor of the pain he was feeling because he didn't want her to fret.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But you came back, like you promised."

"Like I promised."

Her smile made everything he'd gone through seem worthwhile. "Where is Remus?" he inquired. "I wish to speak with him regarding the situation…"

Her smile melted into a grim line as she looked out over the students and soldiers that were gathered in clumps a distance away. "That's the problem. We sent him, along with Sirs Peter, Sirius, Lucius and Dane to the Hold. We haven't seen them since yesterday morning."

James was glad he was lying down. His shock would have made him fall if he were standing, he was sure. "Peter…Sirius…what? No…" his mind spun with the implications of it all. The relief being amongst the Academy students disappeared instantly at knowing that they'd walked right into a trap. He'd done everything in his power to avoid this very thing, but failed.

Fate must be against them.

Everything was going so wrong.

He had to force himself to pay attention to what Lily was reporting. "…scouts say that they haven't seen any commotion as of yet, so we're not sure if Toma even knows that Sir Peter is within the Hold walls. We are hoping that everyone is okay."

James' voice was strained. "My Lady…"

She dropped a kiss onto his jaw, effectively silencing him. "Are you feeling better?"

The abrupt change in topic made his mind spin. He was forced to close his eyes as it transpired into reality, the vivid colors of the forest suddenly melting together and collecting in a big mess that made him want to vomit.

Actually…

He pushed himself away from her and rolled over to be violently sick on the ground for the second time that day. His head pounded doubly now, as if to try and answer her question for him, which caused him to vomit all over again. He almost fell into his pile because his shaking arms refused to hold him up any longer, but Lily caught him.

Pulling him back to rest beside her, she crooned softly to him, words that, to his addled brain, did not seem to make any sense. He was still able to make out the comforting tone and he felt himself blush in mortification at his situation.

What a reunion.

"Rest some more, James," she told him. "You still have a fever." His only answer was a blank gaze and it caused a shiver to panic to run through her. "You'll be okay." She tried asking him some questions, but he remained unresponsive, his eyes focused on her face.

"He's just had a concussion," Severus' voice brought her out of her alarm. "It's normal for him to be unfocused." He gestured to somebody beside him and it was only then that Lily saw Madam Pomfrey standing there with him, back to check on her patient.

Hurriedly coming to her feet, she acknowledged the Lady with a clumsy curtsy. Then, wondering if she'd been mistaken because she was not wearing a skirt, she turned it into a bow halfway.

But the woman didn't seem to care for the courtesy, and if Severus thought anything of it, he did not let it show on his face. The woman jumped straight into business. "He needs shade, water and relaxation. Talking about the war will only scramble his nerves some more. Try not to get him agitated."

Lily nodded and watched as the medically trained woman began to apply a salve onto the back of his head. Between the three of them, they moved his body to rest fully under the shade of trees. It was obvious that he still had some wits about him because he made a conscious effort to move his legs and carry his own weight.

Lily settled herself next to him again, not wanting to let him out of her sight even though she knew that the remaining Elites were to gather with the teachers and Army Leaders and discuss the best course of action to take.

Severus, to her relief, did not question her. "It's been a trying day, Lily," he said, understandingly. "I think you are entitled to rest, yourself. You look like…" he trailed off, probably because he was not able to word himself without sounding vulgar.

"Like the walking dead?" she asked, sardonically. Her lips curled up into a slight smile. "I hate always being the one with the short end of the stick."

They almost jumped when James' voice, slurred with exhaustion, mumbled, "Me too…me too…"

Lily met his eyes and in them, her own question was reflected back at her.

Could things get any worse?

**0-0-0-0-0**

Sirius almost tripped over a stone slab that had not been aligned properly with the rest that made up the terrace. He had only a moment to glance behind him at it before he was shoved forward again by a spear butt in the back. This time, he turned his gaze to his offender, glaring for all he was worth.

It was Dane who caught his sleeve and urged him to keep up with the group by tugging at him, though. Reluctantly, Sirius turned back to the front, hurrying to match his pace with the tall Philologus Elite. Behind him was Sir Lucius, who, Sirius noted, no one dared to shove around. Maybe it was because of the fact that he wore such a regal air about him.

No, Sirius quickly banished that thought. It was the fact that he was a Malfoy.

If there was a Household that thought itself above the rest, it was his. Advocating pureblood supremacy and direct kinsmen of the Royalty, it was no wonder that people stood in awe (and fear) of them.

And that was precisely why Sirius would never get along with him.

As if catching onto his sour mood, Peter turned a little to give him a questioning glance and Sirius endeavored to give him a carefree smile. He did not know if Peter was convinced by it, but the boy smiled back briefly before falling into step beside Remus again.

From the latter's posture, it was clear to Sirius that he was tense and upset. He couldn't help but feel sorry for him, for the shock of finding out that his Household was not the safe haven he'd always known.

That even the Hold's walls could be broken into.

That the one brother that he'd always looked up to and respected could turn against his vow to the Crown.

They came to a halt when one soldier intercepted them. Sirius took this opportunity to draw level with his two friends, wanting to see for himself what was going on.

"Speak," Medwin commanded the man.

Straightening from his bow, the soldier reported, "Engistown has been eliminated, sir, as per our orders."

Medwin nodded once. "Good."

If Remus' jaw could hit the floor, it surely would have. As it happened, though, it fell open in astonishment. Sirius was quite sure his was likely to do the same, but he was too busy gnashing his teeth. One quick look at Peter showed him that the boy had been drained of all color, leaving his already-too-pale face even paler than normal.

"E-Eliminated?" Remus choked the question, not caring that he had interrupted the report at all. "Brother…what does he mean?"

Medwin completely ignored him though, flicking his cape once in a way that caused it to snap. It was a gesture that held a silent order: keep quiet.

"And the survivors?"

"We left very few," the soldier said, glancing at the small group of students before them. His eyes returned to his Commander though, wise enough not to voice his curiosity aloud. "There will be sufficient people to spread the word."

"Doubly good," Medwin said, nodding again. "I want Toma to know that we mean business." He stroked his jaw thoughtfully before saying, "I want you to stand at the ready. I will send word as to your next instructions. Those who are injured and need care, please take them to the upper wing. The Healers will see to them."

The soldier snapped a fist to his heart, shouted an affirmation and proceeded to hurry away in such a professional and rehearsed manner that Sirius wondered how on earth he was able to move so quickly while keeping up appearances.

His musings were cut short when he heard Remus growl, "Eliminated?" again in such a dangerous tone that even Sirius felt a shiver run down his spine. "Toma? You've resorted to working for him?"

This time, Medwin whirled to face him and for a moment, Sirius feared he would strike his younger brother. Instead, he took a menacing step forward so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Yes, _Sir Remus_, I have. It's the only way to stay safe."

But Remus would not back down. "I can't believe it. You…you've…what happened to Engistown? What did Toma have you do?"

"I don't suppose it really matters if I tell you or not," Medwin said, more to himself than to his brother. Perhaps the two had completely forgotten the fact that they were not alone. Even though they discussed matters of the country, it felt more like matters of the Household so no one dared to interrupt.

"You _will _tell me," Remus demanded. Sirius half expected him to stamp his foot in consternation, but the lad was too well groomed to do so.

To everyone's surprise, Medwin deigned to give him a response. "I gave the orders, sir. I had my faction of the army move in to destroy one of England's key cities. Toma will know that I don't work against him, but for him."

"You're playing pet to a madman?" Remus sounded scandalized. "How could you possibly sink so low?" he waited for his brother to defend himself, but when he didn't, Remus pressed, "Engistown is a major source of produce for this country!" He jabbed his finger at his brother. "Those people were _innocent_!"

"Were they, though?" Medwin challenged and Remus hesitated, backing down slightly. Sirius could hear Peter start to breathe heavily. Whether it was to keep from crying or to keep his rage from showing, Sirius could not be sure because he hid his face from everyone by looking down at his feet. In shock himself, Sirius wondered what his own face looked like. He tried to school it into a neutral expression, one that he imagined Sir Lucius was wearing. He didn't dare turn around to look at said man, keeping himself firmly focused on the Commanding Officer in front of him who continued to speak. "Engistown is widely known for starting insurrections. They've killed a fair number of our Noble Houses' heads, not to mention oppressed the others. I could hardly classify them as innocent."

"So this is revenge?" Remus cried, in disbelief. "For a handful of people's actions, you've taken the liberty to destroy them all?

"It will all make sense to you," his brother tried to say, in a pacifying way.

"No!" Remus pulled away when Medwin tried to put his hand on his shoulder. "No! Don't touch me! I don't know you. I don't know who you've become!"

"Brother mine, don't be this way," Medwin crooned. "If you would just listen to reason - "

"-No, you listen to reason," Remus snarled. "What you've done is evil. God will never forgive you and if you want me to join you in this madness, you may as well strike me dead now. I will have no part in your plans. I will have no part in your treachery!"

Sir Medwin sighed, his large shoulders drooping as he did. "Very well. It's as I told you before: you're too naive. I had hoped you'd be a bit more understanding. I shall come and talk to you when you've cooled down some."

Remus spat, "Don't count on it. And don't trouble yourself, sir. No matter what you say, I shall never bestow my forgiveness on you!"

The steely look in his brother's eyes flickered momentarily to that of remorse, before the walls of indifference erected themselves to hide his emotions again. "I don't expect your forgiveness. Just your silence. Take them away to the dungeons," he addressed the men who were escorting them, "and be quick about it."

"Sir! Yes, sir!" the men chorused.

And once again, Sirius found himself being ushered along like a sheep being herded. It made him grind his teeth harder being treated like an animal.

If only he had his sword…

But no, it had been taken away from him by the soldiers upon their capture.

He tried to focus on watching the route that they were taken, but he had never been good at tracking. He was usually used to mark whenever they'd gone out on escapades after curfew hours. But what did he have to use to mark now?

Nothing.

So he made himself pay special attention to landmarks in the case that they might be able to escape. The others, no doubt, were too preoccupied by thinking about what had just transpired. Either that, or they did not hold any hope of ever escaping again.

Sirius Black had always been stubborn and he decided that now was not the time to change. He resolutely studied everything he could as they were marched toward a barrack's entrance.

Inside was splendid, the House's Crest embossed boldly onto the very tiles that they trod upon. Here, the floor was level, not a block out of place. In fact, it was polished to a shine. Their footsteps rang back at them in the vast chamber.

It was lined with the various Commanders of the army. Sir Cyath was amongst them, more boyish in his picture at the time it had been drawn. Looking at it, it was no wonder everyone thought he and Remus looked very similar. Except for minor differences, they might have passed as twins had they been the same age.

As if to ruin the hall's splendor, the flag of Russia was draped over the banister leading to the second floor, covering the crest of the Royal House. It was a symbol and a sign.

Control of the Hold was now under Toma.

Sirius began to feel sick in the stomach at the thought. He ripped his gaze away and mimicked Peter's actions of looking at the floor instead. He would be damned if a mere flag would make him lose his calm.

Passing various rooms, each splendid in their own fashions, Sirius soon lost track of their path. Still, he tried, drinking in every bit of the beauty and the sights before they were forced to descend concrete steps.

Down, down, down they went, deeper than even that of the underground passageways of the Academy. Unlike those though, there were no twisting or attached hallways. There was only one way in and one way out of the dungeons as far as he could tell.

And unlike the underground passageways, these dungeons were fully lit, the cells few, and although musty, rather…clean.

Sirius was just eyeing the locks on the cell bars when his attention was caught yet again but this time, by Peter's sharp intake of breath.

Drawn to curiosity the way a moth is to a flame, Sirius cared to look. He saw a figure, standing in the middle of the room, shift and move forward.

Stunned by the sight, Sirius' mouth finally unhinged itself and fell open betraying his surprise and breaking his cool demeanor.

It was Professor Dumbledore.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN:** I hope you enjoyed. It was a pleasure to finally give you guys something to read. If it was satisfactory, do let me know. I hope that the words don't go dry on me again and I hope to update soon(er) rather than late(r). Inspire me once more.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	28. Reversing the Strategies

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim._

* * *

**AN: **I'm back much sooner than I expected. At least this time around I didn't have you wait for half a year. I was really inspired by all your reviews and comments. It is always a pleasure to hear from you! And so, we move onward.

* * *

_Previously: _

_As if to ruin the hall's splendor, the flag of Russia was draped over the banister leading to the second floor, covering the crest of the Royal House. It was a symbol and a sign._

_Control of the Hold was now under Toma._

_Sirius began to feel sick in the stomach at the thought. He ripped his gaze away and mimicked Peter's actions of looking at the floor instead. He would be damned if a mere flag would make him lose his calm._

_Down, down, down they went, deeper than even that of the underground passageways of the Academy. Unlike those though, there were no twisting or attached hallways. There was only one way in and one way out of the dungeons as far as he could tell._

_And unlike the underground passageways, these dungeons were fully lit, the cells few, and although musty, rather…clean._

_Sirius was just eyeing the locks on the cell bars when his attention was caught yet again but this time, by Peter's sharp intake of breath._

_Drawn to curiosity the way a moth is to a flame, Sirius cared to look. He saw a figure, standing in the middle of the room, shift and move forward._

_Stunned by the sight, Sirius' mouth finally unhinged itself and fell open betraying his surprise and breaking his cool demeanor._

_It was Professor Dumbledore._

* * *

**Chapter 28**

**- Reversing the Strategies -**

"That's foolhardy and you know it," Severus said, heatedly. Currently, he was arguing with the professors and a few of the army heads. "We cannot just think to waltz in there, even if we should have Sir Cyath at the front."

"We can hope that some of them are still loyal to the Crown," Quentin argued. "They would not dare to strike the Commanding Officer."

"And yet they are keeping our students hostage," sneered the Elite in return. Honestly, a more blundering idiot he had yet to encounter. "No, good sir, these men are not going to cooperate as nicely as you please."

Master Edmund broke up the argument by holding up his hands. "I see no need to involve the students if absolutely necessary. I have a duty to the school whether we are within its walls or without: the students must remain safe." He looked over to Sir Cyath, who had been watching the suggestions get passed back and forth, silently. "What do you think is the best course of action?"

Cyath had a faraway look in his eyes but when he blinked, they focused with surprising alertness. "It's as you say, Headmaster. The students must get to safety. The problem is that we don't have enough men to spare to guard them all. The best way to keep them safe is if they are divided." He looked to Severus as if knowing that he objected to this idea as well. "Toma means to divide you to take away your strength in numbers. As it stands, however, you are more vulnerable together. You are like one big sitting target that the Russians are not likely to miss."

All right, he had a point, Severus conceded. He was reminded of earlier in the year when the school had been infiltrated. Lily had come up with a brilliant plan that would separate the Russian army into pockets that would help the students overcome their numbers. Together, they were stronger, divided, easier to contend with.

How he hated having the strategy turned back on him!

Toma Ridel was a worthy adversary indeed when it came to strategic measures.

He caught Lorien's eye, the Ravenclaw Elite as impassive as ever. No doubt the man was just waiting for orders to be issued before he would speak his mind – if at all. Seeing that his fellow Elite would not offer a suggestion, Severus posed his question. "If we split up the students, where shall they go into hiding?"

"They should go back to their homes," Sir Cyath said, decidedly. "The Russian Army will not bother themselves with running after all the Noble Houses. If you remain here, however, it will only lead to Toma's benefit, not ours. He will be able to control all the Noble Houses in one fell swoop if he gets a hold on all its children."

Yes, he was right again. Well, the man hadn't become Commander though his brawn alone. Severus had to remind himself to keep his mind on the conversation because people were talking again.

"We've got wounded men, Sir," Quentin told him. "Dare we wait for them to recover, before we move out?"

"We have no choice," Cyath said. "There are so few of us remaining. We can only hope that others will join our cause or we will be lost."

They were interrupted by the sound of shuffling feet. Everyone turned to the source of the sound, senses heightened and on the alert. To their relief, it was only Lily who was supporting James at her side. "Sorry," she said, managing to shrug the one shoulder she had free. "He insisted…"

Severus noted that the majority of the people present at the meeting were giving them disapproving looks. He gave them one, himself. Did James not know when to take a break? The man was pushing himself entirely too much. "You're not a hero," he snapped, before he could stop himself. "Your valiance is quite…"

"I'm not trying to be a hero," James said, evenly, sounding much better and coherent than he had a few hours back. "The Master Dumbledore charged me specifically in protecting the students at this Academy. I know I'm no longer an Elite, nor am I a part of the army," here he deflected a bow toward the Commanding Officer, respectfully, "but I..."

Severus heard the implication for what it was. _I would still like to help_.

"I haven't been much good so far," James said, miserably, not bothering to finish his first thought. Although he said it softly, everyone gathered heard it. "I've done nothing but make everyone run in a circle and have ended in backing us into a corner."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Professor Slughorn said, sympathetically.

"You did all you could. No one blames you for the situation, Lad," Professor McGonogall added.

James slumped further onto Lily, causing the redhead to almost fall over with the added weight. He murmured an apology that only she could hear. When he had regained a bit of his strength, he tried to straighten up without much success. She put her hand up to his chest to better center him. "James…let's sit," she suggested, changing her sentence half-way through, knowing that James would not want to leave the meeting.

The fact that he did not argue with her told her just how terrible he must be feeling.

"You're most welcome to join the discussion," Master Edmund said. "But while you can, rest easy. You'll need every bit of strength just in case."

James groaned as he was lowered to the ground, falling roughly against the tree's base. A corner of his mouth turned up into a wry smile that was sardonic at best, crestfallen at worst. "You mean, just in case we have another infiltration?" he indicated their surroundings with a weary shake of his head. The joke, while bleak, caused a few of the teachers to titter.

There was nothing left to infiltrate.

Lily smoothly knelt next to him, letting that horrible fact sink in.

Nothing left.

Except…

…That was it!

In her excitement, Lily shot back to her feet, causing the group of leaders, who had been about to converse again, to look at her in surprise.

Courtesies be damned. If she could stomp on them, she would. She glanced down at James for a brief second, torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to force her idea onto the gathered crowd in front of her. Severus' words from the other day came back to her.

_Women are not expected to know anything about war and tactics._

Still, she kept her chin held high under their scrutiny: to hell with their pride and egos. So far, strutting about all high and mighty had done nothing to give them a solution to their problems. She didn't care what they thought of her, so she spoke her mind. "This is a suggestion, because we're throwing ideas onto the table, anyway." She met Severus' gaze because it was much easier than looking at Sir Cyath, who, she knew, would shoot down her plan right away. Her speech, compared to everyone else's seemed clumsy and very unrefined. She forced herself to continue, despite it. "I don't know about you, but I am positively sick of being caught by surprise and having to run for our lives. What if there was some way to return the favor? Catch _them_ by surprise and have _them_ see what it's like?"

A soldier scowled openly at her, clearly not impressed by her mannerisms or her complaints. "If there were a way, woman, we would have done so already."

Fire touching her green eyes, Lily turned her gaze full force on him. "I wasn't finished yet," she clipped, annoyed at his blatant display of bigotry. With a huff, she gestured to the rest of the group, as though he were unimportant and didn't belong there. "What I was going to say," she emphasized in a somewhat condescending manner (whether it insulted him or not, she didn't care), "was that _we_ infiltrate the Hold."

There was a moment's silence before the group broke into protests and speculations.

Lily stood to the side, watching them, finally mustering the courage to glance in the Commander's direction. He had regained that faraway look in his eyes, and she had to wonder whether he was seriously thinking about her suggestion or if he hadn't heard it at all.

Quentin, ever high-strung, topped his voice so that it rang above the others'. "And how, my Lady, do you propose to do that?"

She clenched her teeth and fought back a flippant response. All eyes were turned on her again, including, she noticed, Sir Cyath's, all traces of absentmindedness gone. It was almost eerie the way he could focus like that. It was like he could hear multiple conversations and understand them all at once. She was forced to look to Severus again, lest she blush and say something stupid. "Well…I've an idea…" this time she looked toward James and felt a smile tug at her lips. Turning back to the crowd, she continued, "but I can't take all the credit. It's not surprising that it comes from the Marauders because they were always up to no good."

The teachers glanced at each other, their expressions turning rueful.

Evidently, Sir Cyath knew about them too, because he grinned. She relaxed slightly when he prompted, "Let's hear it then."

Glancing once more toward James, Lily took a deep breath and began to speak.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Maybe it was habit, or perhaps, ingrained courtesies that had been drilled into them for so long that Dane, Sirius and Lucius moved to hail the man. Seeing them do so made Remus and Peter mirror their actions, albeit a tad later than the others.

"Well met, each of you," Dumbledore said, moving to stand in the lighted area of the dungeons.

As if those words were a cue, the soldiers that had tightly huddled them together, went to take positions around the enclosed area, postures at ease.

Remus turned his head to follow their movements, more than bewildered.

"Master, how good indeed it is to see you!" Dane spoke for all of them, his own bewilderment evident in his voice.

For someone who had been imprisoned for so long, he did not appear emaciated in the least. In fact, Dumbledore looked rather healthy and, for lack of a better word, jolly. Remus had feared to see the man missing an arm or having to use a cane. As it was, he stood on both feet without a struggle which was a relief in and of itself.

Finished with his critical assessment of his elder, Remus thought to ask, "This is where you were being kept this whole time?"

Dumbledore gave them a merry grin, as if he were not standing in enemy territory. He'd always been rather odd that way though, and whether it was because he truly wasn't concerned or if he was trying to put up a brave front for his students, one could never be sure. "In all the confusion of the war, I was brought here, yes."

Dane seemed to assess the man with his eyes, too. "If we had only known…"

"Alas, there was naught you could have done," reassured Dumbledore, "nor was there any way for you to have gotten word." He seemed to think on that a little before adding, "I think it is better that it turned out the way it did."

"There is so much to tell you," Dane said. "I don't know where to begin." For the first time ever, the Ravenclaw Elite sounded lost and desperate. "I regret to put before you that the Academy has fallen." And Remus then understood that it was because the man felt as though his duty towards the school had not been fulfilled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucius' chin drop slightly from its usual, arrogant tilt – no doubt the man was feeling exactly the same.

To Remus' discomfort, Dumbledore nodded. "I've been expecting that for some time now," the Master said.

"Expecting?" Peter repeated. The Headmaster peered over his half-moon spectacles as if that would better help him see the youngest boy.

"Well, yes," was the matter-of-fact answer. "I knew it would happen sooner or later."

Unable to keep silent any longer, Sirius pushed forward. "You _knew_ this was going to happen?" he asked, incredulously.

Another person made their presence known, stepping into the light, a man who had chosen to stand back and let the Master do the speaking. But now, he interrupted the conversation, coming to Dumbledore's defense. "Rest assured, he was not standing idle," he said.

Sirius narrowed his eyes in disdain at the stranger. "Who, pray tell, are you?" and conscious or not of his tone, he sounded just as condescending as any of the House Malfoy could.

The man had dark hair, cropped short on the sides and front, but it tapered at the back in a long, thin tail that ended just past his shoulders. He held it back with a swath of ribbon, the way Remus did, but it did not become him half as handsomely. "I am Eric Stevenson, son of Arthur Stevenson."

The name seemed to ring a bell in Dane's mind. He remembered a conversation within a Dining Hall with a fiery-tempered woman. "You're the Lady Lily's father." It was more of a question than a statement.

Eric bowed slightly in affirmation and the gathered students exchanged glances. "As I was saying, do not presume that the Headmaster did not do his very best to avoid the situation."

Remus, ill at ease, glanced around the dungeon. He'd grown up behind the walls of the Hold; played, learned and performed mischief there. Never had he ventured to the inner parts of the barracks though, nor had he been this far into the main building. He had known they kept a dungeon, but he had never dreamed to be held in it. His world seemed to be slowing while his brain worked overtime, mulling over the words that Sir Eric had said.

Everything was going so wrong.

In fact, everything about this very picture was wrong.

Half of him listened as Dumbledore performed the obligatory introductions, while the other half paid strict attention to the feeling of apprehension that had begun to tug on him yet again. Remus had learned to trust that instinct, however dark it was.

He was distracted from his thoughts when he heard Dumbledore chuckle and Peter's tinkling laughter follow shortly afterwards.

Clearly, he'd missed a joke of some kind.

Somehow, that sound was out of place, considering their surroundings and situation.

Remus struggled to comprehend that but all other thoughts went clear out of his head when it hit him.

Of _course._

Of course it all seemed out of place! It was like a dream-turned-nightmare. He turned his gray eyes toward the elder, feeling himself flush with sweat in a panic-driven dread.

Dumbledore was at ease. Too at ease, for Remus' liking. If his thoughts were correct, then…

_Do not presume that the Headmaster did not do his very best to avoid the situation. _

"Impossible!" the word blurted out of his mouth before his brain could catch up with him. All heads riveted in his direction so quickly that it made him take a step back. Unable to tear his gaze away from that twinkling blue, he took yet another step away, hoping against hope that the conclusion that he'd come to was incorrect.

_He had no choice. But rest assured, he was not standing idle._

Those cryptic words made a world of sense now.

"Remus, mate, are you quite all right?" Sirius asked, noting his paling features.

Remus' voice cracked when he accused, "It was you. It was _you_!" all the time staring disbelievingly at the Master. He felt Sirius' hand on his shoulder which he shrugged off impatiently. He felt a snarl come to his lips as his carefully controlled anger, resentment and fear bubbled to the surface. "How could you? I – _we_ – trusted you!"

Sirius' hand was on his shoulder again, but this time, in restraint instead of in question. It was a good thing, too, because Remus would have flown over and grabbed the man's robes – robes that he now realized were freshly laundered and even fit to size. Robes that did not match a prisoner – and shaken him. His friend seemed to pause before slowly turning to stare at Dumbledore himself, realization dawning on his features.

Peter, not as quick to catch onto Remus' horror, piped, "What? What's the matter?"

Remus wished Sirius would say it, but the man looked too stunned to speak. Grimly, he answered, knowing that every word he spoke was true, "He was the one who sold us out to the Russians. He betrayed us all."

**0-0-0-0-0**

The plan was surprisingly simple, but in its simplicity, it was perfect.

Lily felt relief more so than she felt pride over the fact that they had actually listened to her thoughts. She'd been expecting them to sneer at it, to question it, but instead, they had been rather impressed, expanding on her idea and fleshing it out. To her delight and surprise, it was going to be carried out immediately.

Or perhaps, it had been because there were no other options that were better.

She absently skirted a rock that had been overturned so that half of it was in the ground while the other was buried in the sand. In doing so, she was unable to avoid a low-hanging tree branch that reached its fingers out to grasp whatever strands of her red hair that it could. She took a moment to untangle herself before resuming her search for Pavel.

The other students by this point in the day had settled down to their evening meals, reminding her of the fact that she hadn't eaten since…well…she couldn't remember. Eating was the last thing on her mind, though, but she filed that necessity away for a later time.

Lily found Pavel crouched down with the children, helping to hand out their rations. They were all smiles, begging him for the chance to ride on his back after their dinners. He returned their smiles with ease and if Lily didn't know better, the younger girls seemed to swoon. She couldn't blame them: she'd always thought him handsome from the very first time she'd laid eyes on him.

Feeling her gaze on him, Pavel looked up and straightened. "Lady?"

She forgot all about courtesies and said, "I've got a favor to ask of you."

Pavel raised an eyebrow, no doubt catching that she didn't mean for the favor to fall on him solely. She may have forgone her manners all together, but he did not, for he swept a bow to all the children and excused himself from their presence, promising them that he would give them a ride when he came back.

Despite herself, Lily felt a smile tug at her lips. As he fell into step beside her, she wasted no time in getting to the point. "We've planned to infiltrate the Hold. We will need you and your Russian comrades to help us out."

"In any way we can," Pavel said, instantly. "Tell us what we must do."

Taken aback by his willingness, she peered up at him. "Shouldn't you run this by them first?"

"We have disgraced ourselves," Pavel told her, bitterly. "We have been treated with nothing but respect in your midst and yet…"

She put her hand on his arm to stop him. "What your country did is not your fault. Don't beat yourself up about it."

He paused, seeming to drink in her words, unable to look at her because of his shame. Without saying anything, he resumed his pace, making her skip to catch up with him. "So," he kicked at a pebble, causing dirt and grass to be displaced, "how can we be of help?"

"As a ruse. Some of the Army have been wounded and we wanted you and your friends to lead them into the Hold on that excuse. If we had a few Russian Soldiers with them, it would look more convincing that they've turned Traitor."

Pavel's brow furrowed as he pondered her words and, understanding the meaning behind them, kicked his pebble so that it flew off into a bush. He made no move to try and retrieve it. "But we are no soldiers, Lady Lily."

"They don't know that," Lily said, mischievously. "If we dress you in the Russian Army's uniform, they would be none the wiser."

Pavel still did not look convinced.

"From what James told us, the King's Army has been split into factions and forced to do whatever the Russians say." As Lily rationalized aloud, she found yet another pebble and began to play with it in much the same fashion as Pavel had. "I'll bet you they don't keep a listing of every soldier in each group. I doubt they know every soldier by name, let alone face."

He conceded the point with a reluctant nod of his head. "So we play dress up?"

"You play dress up," confirmed the redhead. She stopped for a moment, drawing them both short when her pebble got lodged in the dirt of the forest floor. She toed at it until it became loose and began to walk again, skipping the small stone ahead of her a few paces at a time. "But playing the part is the most important thing or else the others will catch on to what you're doing."

Pavel let himself be led as he pondered the plan. "It might work. During the last infiltration, we dressed up as soldiers and no one thought twice about it. Prince Aleksey acted so convincingly that even Sir Lucius had his reservations." He couldn't help but smile at the memory despite how tragic that time had been. He glanced to his companion, who was once again toeing her pebble out of the dirt. "How will a handful of us be able to take on a whole army if we manage to infiltrate?" he asked.

Lily's motions stopped. "James once told me that the element of surprise is a great offensive weapon if used properly." Her green eyes sparkled in determination. "We have to keep them guessing, catch them unaware." She glanced around the glade of trees and lowered her voice as if to stop them from hearing the rest of the plan. "That's where the students come in."

"The students? You're involving them?" disapproval colored his tone.

. "Whoever wants to," she amended.

"Why do I get the feeling that this part of the plan wasn't agreed upon?"

When she gave him a stubborn look, he sighed and said, "All right then. What are they to do?"

A grin that the Marauders would have approved of stretched her cheeks. "They climb."

**0-0-0-0-0**

"I'm convinced that you're either crazy or ridiculously mischievous," James followed Lily as she moved steadily toward the soldiers. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around her plan, not to mention the fact that she was going with them. She had just started learning how to use the sword, for heaven's sake! "Or…just incredibly insane."

"Insane and crazy fall under the same category," she told him, over her shoulder. Dried branches and leaves crunched beneath her feet as she trod over them. "I never thought I'd ever see the day you went about calling a woman names."

He let out a sigh, and she could practically see his exasperated pout in her mind's eye. When he grabbed her hand and spun her to face him, she raised an eyebrow. "Look, Lily, I just…"

"James, I know. I _know_. You're worried. We all are. But it's just like Sir Peter said, sacrifices need to be made."

"Sacrifices," James all but spat the word as he repeated it. "You don't have to - "

"-I don't, but I will," Lily cut him off. "It's my job, James. That's what being a Philologus is all about. It's about doing what's right for the good of the people." Before he could argue with her, she ploughed on, "It's about setting an example."

"You aren't a Philologus yet! You don't have to throw yourself into the battle to make people accept you," James had to fight to keep himself from shouting at her but he was failing miserably. Around them, a few students had stopped whatever they were doing to look on in interest, but neither he nor she paid any attention to them. "People will respect you for the decisions you make because you know you've made the right ones."

Lily scoffed, "And be like an Optivus?" A pained expression crossed his face at her sneer. She shook her head in an effort to lessen the blow of her disdain. "No, James. I won't be the one who moves the pawns into position and sit back and watch as it's played out. For me, it's about leadership in a different form. It's responsibility in a different light. That's the way you believe it to be, too."

Damn it, she knew him all too well. He'd spent hours recounting what had happened at the Academy, how he'd felt so discouraged by Moody's actions. How he'd never felt so useless – and used – in all his life. It all boiled down to getting things done no matter what how dirty his hands got in the process.

Abruptly, he remembered the thousands of soldiers that he'd poisoned and the sickly feeling rose up in his gut again.

Had he already begun to fall into the trap of using others?

"I…I…that's not it," James felt his cheeks light with shame. "I just don't want you to get hurt. It's not right that you have to do this."

"Because it's a man's job, right?" Lily asked, calmly, her cheeks also gaining a pink hue.

No, this was wrong.

They weren't supposed to be arguing.

"Lady, that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Lily asked, eyes flashing. "Are you no different from the rest of them?"

James paused, and ran a hand through his hair. When he made no response, she sniffed and turned to march away again. He caught her hand before she could do so, though, and she turned slightly, a disappointed look on her face. He found himself begging, "Please…please, my Lady…don't hate me…"

Her glare softened slightly into a look of pleading. "When you told me that there was no one else, for me not to turn back for you, for me to let you do your duty despite how dangerous it was for you, I respected your choice," Lily told him. She remembered how painful it was to watch him walk away with the fear that it would be the last time she ever saw him again. She remembered the crushing elation she'd felt when she saw him standing by the river's edge, her heart beating to the point where she thought she'd die of relief.

When had she come to care for him so much?

Softly, she said, "You have to let me go."

He stared at her for a long time, before doing as she asked, slowly releasing his grip on her wrist. She felt her stomach plummet at the action, her heart twist when he took a step back.

She expected him to argue again. She expected him to walk away. She did not expect him to smile the way he did, now. "Did I tell you that you're also incredibly stubborn?"

Despite herself, she laughed. "So are you." Sobering, she bit back the last of her giggles. "James…"

He nodded once, and the words died on her lips. "I understand, my Lady. It's your duty." His eyes sparkled in amusement. "You do so like to do things out of convention."

She suddenly remembered the Legend of the Deathly Hallows that Severus had told her about. Glancing around at the other students who tried to make it look like they hadn't been eavesdropping, she said, "Somehow I get the Noble System a little better now, thanks to you."

"Hm?"

Lily smiled wistfully. They would not be able to get anywhere if they allowed their emotions to dictate their actions. No wonder the Noble Houses did not marry in love. If they did, they would not be able to pursue their ambitions relentlessly. Try as she might to overcome that social barrier, she'd just integrated herself further into it.

She shook her head. "Never mind."

He looked like he wanted to press her for answers, but instead he shrugged and hurried to walk next to her. "I've been raised in the ways of the Noblemen so you must forgive me," he said. "I don't mean to dictate your actions…but I…" he clenched his hands into fists.

Lily reached out to touch them. "Thank you for worrying," she said. "And thank you…for keeping your promise."

James relaxed slightly. "Will you make me the same promise?" he asked, and his voice was so imploring it made her want to take back her choice of leaving him in the first place. But she wouldn't, and he knew that. Instead, the echo of the words he had spoken what seemed like a lifetime ago rang between them again.

_I will return to your side._

"I promise."

His grin made her feel as though she had given him the best gift in the world. Not needing any more words of reassurance, he suddenly yanked her forward, dropping a kiss onto the corner of her mouth, sealing the deal.

**To be Continued…**

* * *

**AN**: The calm before the storm yet again. I'm really hoping I'll have the time to sit back and write something before the year ends. I make no promises but it really does depend on inspiration and opportunity. The story will wind to a close soon and I have a lot to ponder on. Give me your thoughts in the form of a review and I'll do my very best to see you all soon in the form of a new chapter.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


	29. Infiltration

**OPTIVUS by: P.P.V.V.**

_Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim._

* * *

**AN: **Please don't shoot me. Or flame me. Or maim me. I need my limbs in order to operate. I know I've been away for a while yet again. This story keeps being put on the backburner due to lack of time. I recently went through a large portion of the reviews left for me to fuel my inspiration and it worked. Sorry for the long hiatus. Your reviews and PMs have saved the day and pulled me through. I'm not just saying that – thank you to everyone who has encouraged/begged me to continue. This is for you. (And my poor, poor sounding boards…you know who you are.)

* * *

_Previously:  
_

_"Impossible!" the word blurted out of Remus' mouth before his brain could catch up with him. Unable to tear his gaze away from that twinkling blue, he took a step away, hoping against hope that the conclusion that he'd come to was incorrect._

_"Remus, mate, are you quite all right?" Sirius asked, noting his paling features._

_Remus' voice cracked when he accused, "It was you. It was__you__!" all the time staring disbelievingly at the Master. He felt Sirius' hand on his shoulder which he shrugged off impatiently. He felt a snarl come to his lips as his carefully controlled anger, resentment and fear bubbled to the surface. "How could you? I –__we__– trusted you!"_

_Sirius' hand was on his shoulder again, but this time, in restraint instead of in question. It was a good thing, too, because Remus would have flown over and grabbed the man's robes – robes that he now realized were freshly laundered and even fit to size. Robes that did not match a prisoner – and shaken him. His friend seemed to pause before slowly turning to stare at Dumbledore himself, realization dawning on his features._

_Peter, not as quick to catch onto Remus' horror, piped, "What? What's the matter?"_

_Remus wished Sirius would say it, but the man looked too stunned to speak. Grimly, he answered, knowing that every word he spoke was true, "He was the one who sold us out to the Russians. He betrayed us all."_

* * *

**Chapter 29**

**- Infiltration -**

Crouched against the wall, a figure moved.

Not more than two feet away, another scurried to join him, pressing itself flat against the jagged rock as well, where moss and dirt and vines had embedded into the cracks so deeply that the mighty fortress seemed rooted into place by the very earth.

More men hurried to copy their comrades, their footsteps and hushed voices drowned out by the sound of howling wind. Amongst them was Lily, who was desperately trying to pin back her fiery locks whenever the wind blew.

Not impressed by the sudden drop in temperature, they had to wonder whether the weather was on their side or not.

Ahead, a voice boomed carried by the wind so that it seemed to echo in all directions.

"Who goes there?"

And for a moment, everyone stiffened and ceased all movements.

"We bear wounded!" Sir Cyath's response to the demand, at so far a distance, was clearly heard. His voice carried easily across the plain. "Open the gates!"

There was no answer at first and Lily feared that the plan would backfire. Had anyone been seen lurking in the darkness? They had done all that Sir Cyath had instructed them. He knew his Hold and its passages well. He had had them sneak into a part that was used solely (and ironically) by those carrying the dead. In short, through a graveyard that was not, as the Commanding Officer had foretold, being guarded heavily by soldiers.

The grating sound of the huge doors opening grabbed her attention. It made her pulse race in anticipation and dread.

Hand signals were exchanged along the line and Lily knew it was time.

Time to climb.

She put a hand to her stomach and the other on the wall, stretching her neck as she glanced upward. The wall seemed to stretch forever, twice as high as those of the outer ramparts of H.W. Academy.

If she fell, it would be an awful long way down…

Disgusted at her fears, she gestured to the man sitting next to her to keep his eyes peeled and to hang on tight. He gave her a terrified grin, which made her relax slightly. At least she was not the only one who was quite literally shaking in their boots.

Not to her surprise, all the men had volunteered themselves to taking the climb. Only a handful of women had decided to come along. The others had opted to wait in the forest. If worse came to worse, they would flee for the hills before separating and going to their respective homes.

Carefully, Lily shifted and began to climb upward, wondering morbidly what she feared more: heights or enclosed spaces. Who would have guessed that her time at the Academy would be filled with such adventures?

Ruefully, she put one hand in front of the other, telling herself to concentrate on climbing, willing her muscles to move in a coordinated manner; forcing herself not to look down as she inched her way upward.

She had never been good at physical activities, had never liked them. Though she belonged to, and was the head of, the Arts and Athletics Branch, she didn't quite fit into the description of her fellow Housemates. A few of them she could make out in the darkness, climbing the wall with more nimbleness than she did. If times were not as serious as they were, she would have guessed that they would have made a sport of it to see who could reach the top the fastest.

What they would encounter up there, Lily feared to know.

The going was slow. So slow, in fact, that her muscles began to protest. Several times, she had to stop and try to gather her breath. Despite the winds, she was sweating bullets, feeling as though she had run a marathon.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed onward, knowing that if she lingered for too long, she would lose her grip and fall to her death.

She found herself remembering James' advice to her before she'd left.

"Remember, keep the cutting edge of the blade away from yourself." His fingers had then reached out to test to see if she had girdled the weapon to her side correctly. "Always make sure that you keep your eyes on your enemy_. Don't_," he had stressed, "_ever_ turn your back. Lean into your strike and for heaven's sake, do not let go of your sword."

She remembered nervously tugging at her coat, trying to commit his words to memory. He'd prattled on, anxiously. "They will be wearing armor – you will not. If you must fight, aim for their underarms, their neck or their face. It is where they are most vulnerable. You will be faster than them, more nimble. Use that to your advantage. Cut fast and cut deep."

At her terrified look, he'd lifted her chin. "This is war, my Lady. They are soldiers. They are experienced and well-trained. They will not show you mercy. No one will fault you if you turn away now."

Her green eyes had narrowed and he'd smiled wistfully.

Could she kill someone if the opportunity presented itself to her? Lily wondered as she climbed. Could she successfully cross blades with someone with that intent?

Too soon, but not soon enough, her fingers grasped the edge and she cautiously froze, listening to see if there was anyone she might encounter when she climbed over.

She heard a few barked orders, but nothing too close to where she sat perched.

Before she could make a move, she felt someone grab her wrist and pull. In her surprise, she scrabbled, her left hand springing free of the crag that secured her to the wall. With a fearful gasp, Lily whipped it back to grab onto the hand that held her suspended, hanging on for dear life.

Panic ran through her at the thought of falling – of being caught by the enemy.

_"They will not show you mercy." _

James' voice rang through her head, his grim words becoming all-too frighteningly clear. If the enemy wanted, they could release her to drop to the ground below.

To her surprise (and relief) whoever it was began to drag her upward, and she realized belatedly that she was holding her breath. Letting it go, she choked on more air as she desperately tried to calm herself.

"It's okay. It's okay, I've got you."

For a moment, she wondered whether she was hearing right. Would the enemy say such things? And why did that voice belong to…

"James?" Lily croaked, in disbelief.

"Are you all right?"

"James?" She repeated, unable to help her indignant hiss. His name came out brokenly the second time, caught as she was between falling into hysterics, being angry and being relieved. "What are you…what are you _doing_ here?" She was shaking, but if anyone asked, she could pass it off for the weather's bite.

"Lady…"

"Don't you Lady me!" Lily's voice rose a little in pitch and despite her wobbly limbs and the fear in her wide-eyes, she sounded terribly scary. James was petrified in his spot, unsure if he would rather face the enemy or her wrath. "You…you should be resting! You are in no condition to climb walls or…or fight….or anything!" She finally found the strength to rise to her feet.

He raised his hands defensively when she marched up to him. "Then you go and scare the living daylights out of me! Of all the…! James Potter, you are unbelievable!"

"What? I was trying to help you! Lily, listen, I - "

"-Can we leave the lovers' spat for a later time?" Severus' silky voice cut in, disgustedly. "The entire Hold will awaken and the scene you two are making is very unbecoming indeed."

Lily turned her righteous anger on him. "Severus, you let him come along, didn't you?" she actually stamped her foot after her rhetorical question. It must be confessed that Severus cringed away for he had never seen her so upset before. "I can't believe either of you!"

Severus shook his head and mimicked James' actions of raising his hands. "I am not his mother, Evans. He can do what he wills and the Lord knows that he is as stubborn as a bull."

"It doesn't help if you encourage him!"

James raised his own voice, frustrated. "Can you please stop talking about me as if I am not here?" He gave her a glare when she faced him again. "If this is about valor, honor or being accepted, then you need not worry any longer."

Lily opened her mouth to object, but he put his hands to her shoulders. "Your work here is done, my Lady. You've led them as you meant to. You have gotten the game started. There is no need for you to get yourself into any more danger…"

"You never meant to stay behind, did you?" Yet another rhetorical question and she could not help but feel like she'd been made fun of. "You came along so that you could keep an eye on me!"

His answer was blunt. "Yes." He exchanged glares with her. "I want to keep you safe. All right? I just want to keep you safe!" He began to rake his fingers through his hair, as was his habit when he was nervous or upset. "With so little experience, you can't be so naïve as to believe that you can come out of this alive on your own."

Severus stepped toward them. "Lily, he's right. These men have been trained with the sword and shield for any number of years. You wouldn't stand a chance."

Lily felt betrayed, but the rational part of her agreed wholeheartedly with them. No, she was not that stupid. But she hated the thought that she had to be rescued, all the time. "I have every right to protect my freedom," she said, at last. "If you are expecting me to climb back down this wall, it's not going to happen."

James gave her that same wistful smile from earlier. "No, I suppose it won't. And I won't stop you. Nor will I leave your side."

"Gryffindor courage," Severus snorted, and his wry words seemed to break whatever tension had gathered between them. "How very sweet. I'll take my leave before it dares to infect me as well. Don't forget the plan. Sir Cyath will be expecting us."

A few feet away, another student reached the top of the wall and with the excuse of helping him, Severus glided away.

Left alone, Lily and James stood facing each other, awkwardly. "You can get mad at me later," James said, pulling her toward him so that he could kiss her chin. "For now, there's work to be done."

"If we make it out of here alive, you're in a lot of trouble," she told him. Her voice held just the right amount of venom and he had to swallow against the sudden dryness of his throat.

He came to his conclusion.

He would much rather face the enemy.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"The Master of the House has returned!"

The word spread like wildfire through the corridors of the Hold. It was passed by soldier to soldier – by every wife and child – every worker in the streets of the small city. Faces peered out from windows. Feet pounded down the paths against the slabs of stone and concrete to come see for themselves.

Soldiers by the hundreds came to greet their Commanding Officer. Amongst them, was his eldest son, who pushed forward to lead the pack. "Sir Medwin, report," Cyath ordered, when they drew level with each other. As if on cue, every man halted in their tracks, forming ranks as if they were in the middle of a training drill.

"There are a total of 4, 672 men on site, my lord," Medwin said, smartly.

"And how many of those are well and able to fight?"

"About 70 percent. Those that are not able are…incapacitated."

Cyath rolled the word over in his mind briefly, his gray eyes flicking to the men who stood rigidly at attention.

How many of those were loyal? How many of them had fallen traitor? And how many of them would lie through their very teeth?

Just the thought made the Commander's head spin. It would not be so easy to launch an attack when one was not sure who was really on their side. Lady Lily still had a lot to learn when it came to tactics. Cyath told himself to focus and smoothly instructed, "Bring our wounded to the infirmary and have all the ranking officers meet immediately in the main barracks."

There was a collective shout of affirmation and the army split to do as he bid.

_Incapacitated _– that was Medwin's way of telling him that people were either hospitalized, captive or turned traitor. He suspected it was the lattermost as he led the way toward the largest edifice in the Hold's structure.

It stood proudly in the darkness, confident in its strength and what it stood for. For centuries nothing could breach its walls.

Tonight, a handful of mere student had.

At the top of the towers, the Russian flag snapped in the breeze, bringing the reality that not even the Hold could stand up against everything. Cyath would be damned if he let it fall on his watch. He'd protect it, even if he died doing so.

Moving on ahead of the group, he called, "A word, if I may, Sir Medwin."

Obediently, his son stepped forward, his blue cape catching the wind and fluttering around him in a majestic manner. Cyath was suddenly very aware of the way he seemed rugged and worn down in comparison. The Commander drew his own tattered cloak about him as if to conceal his appearance. Medwin caught the gesture and noted, "My lord…you look terrible."

"There has been much bloodshed," Cyath told him, grimly. "Tell me true, sir: how many of my men can I trust?"

Medwin looked around for a moment and lowered his voice as though there might be someone who would overhear what he would say. The only soldiers present were a few feet away, guarding the grand staircase that wound in the foyer. They stared forward, like statues, unmoving, ever alert. With the heel of his boot, the eldest son of the House eased the door closed behind him once they'd passed through. "The majority of the soldiers have turned traitor just as they were ordered to."

Eyes narrowing, Cyath repeated, "Ordered? What?"

"Sir Albus," Sir Medwin said, his tone indicating that no more needed to be said and that the name was justifiable on its own. When his father gave him a stern, probing look, he hurried to explain. "Sir Albus ordered some of us to join ranks with the Russian army, to make it look like we have turned traitor and allied with them.

"Once they have relaxed their guard enough, we will move in for a strike. They will not know what hit them."

A sound strategy.

One that sounded very familiar.

In fact, it almost sounded exactly like…

"Sir Albus is using Toma's own plan against him." His incredulity leant a questioning lilt to the observation. The revelation seemed so simple and yet so complicated that he was obliged to shake his head to keep his thoughts on track. He still couldn't believe that Toma wanted to move against his own country. To have Albus follow his tactic was dangerous.

There were so many things that could go wrong with such a plan.

The most pressing was that it had now created such a blurred line between friend and foe in the King's Army. If things continued, they would reach a stalemate. How would they be able to tell the real traitors from those who were merely acting it?

Medwin continued, forcing Cyath to focus on his words. "There is no doubt in Toma's mind of our supposed loyalty," he said, confidently, "for he issued the order for us to destroy Engistown. To hold true to Sir Albus' plans, we did as we were told. Toma now believes we are under his control."

Cyath's anger slowly flickered to life at the reminder. "I was there," he said, through gritted teeth, "in that battle. Many of my soldiers died. Thousands of civilians did, too, at the hands of my own men." He couldn't help the bitter anguish that crept into his voice.

His son gave him a consoling pat on the upper arm. "We sent a messenger to try and get the word out that this would happen. He was to alert the civilians and have them escape. According to the scouts on duty, though, the boy who was sent disappeared and did not deliver the message as intended."

"So, you're telling me that my men are only pretending to be traitors?" Cyath scoffed angrily. "I hardly believe that. And to top it off, His Highness somehow ended up within the walls of the Hold." He glared at the Russian Flag that decorated the main lobby. "I must know who is still loyal to the Crown. Unless I do, His Highness is not safe here."

At that moment, the other ranking officers chose to come through the doors. They paused when they saw the two of them standing there, but moved forward when Cyath gestured them to the stairs.

"Well…there is a way, sir," Medwin said, before his father could go after them. "A way to help you distinguish friends from foes."

Sir Cyath's face soured, most likely because he was not impressed by what he'd heard so far. It was no wonder he was wary of what was yet to come. "Let's have it, then."

Medwin hesitated briefly before answering, "Yes, sir. But it will require you to turn traitor, too."

**0-0-0-0-0**

The officers were all similar in one aspect: their faces were drawn and serious. Their uniforms varied only by the medals that hung to their breast coats, depicting their different ranks. When not attired in their armor, they seemed like regular men, but Cyath knew better: these were men who had fought their battles and had come away more hardened, more toughed and more knowledgeable. And that was precisely why their pride and egos seemed to fill the room to the point where it became suffocating to breathe.

A few of them, Cyath had fought alongside. A few of them, he had often come to for advice or for another opinion. All of them shared his ideals of protecting the Crown.

Well…at least some of them _had_…

As he looked out over their faces – about fifty or so in all - he wondered just how many of them still followed that code of honor.

They chatted with each other in low voices so that there was a hum to the air but no actual conversations were distinct enough to make out. But Cyath wasn't paying attention to that, more so he was trying to distinguish which members he could trust just by their appearances alone. It was a futile effort because a part of him was still in denial that any of his men would so willingly follow such a monster…

His time was running out. He'd instructed the students to meet in this very room. He had to secure it before they arrived…

"Sir, everyone has assembled as requested," Sir Medwin's voice rang clear over the murmur of the crowd. The hubbub died down and every head turned to regard him, dropping all subject matters and giving him their undivided attention.

Cyath drew in a breath and curtly replied, "Very good. Send them in."

The murmuring started up again as the doors were thrown open once more, admitting armed soldiers into the room.

Once they had positioned themselves around the perimeter and had successfully blocked the doors to the chamber, Cyath addressed the crowd, "I will be concise: these are dark times. As such, we have to choose with whom we will swear loyalty.

"This Keep has always stood by the Royal House." He took another deep breath and leaned forward onto the podium he stood behind, resting his elbows upon the flat partition. "As Head of this Army, I believe that siding with Toma is in the Crown's best interest. No," he correct himself, "it is in _England_'s best interest."

There was a moment of silence as his words sunk in. Shocked faces stared back at him, while others nodded in grim agreement. He let it go on before adding, "It is difficult but we must think of the future, for the safety of our borders and our lands. Our children."

"This is outrageous!" Sir Garrison Gray, one of his most trusted advisors stood up, causing his chair to screech in protest. "You have sworn your oath to the Crown! You would give up your arms to a madman?"  
"Sir Garrison, if you are not for us, you are against us," Sir Cyath answered, steely.

"Then I_ shall _be against you," Garrison spat. "Disgrace! Dishonor! To think of yourself in times like these!"

"Does anyone else wish to state their opinion?" Cyath asked, calmly, sounding detached.

Again, he was met with silence and Garrison looked around him, dismayed. "Have all of you forgotten your vows? Are none of you ashamed?" he demanded.

An officer, by the name of Sir Jeremiah, spoke up. "I concur with Sir Cyath. England cannot stand against the Russians. We must join them if we wish to spare our lives."

Sir Garrison's face turned purple with rage. "You would betray his Majesty?"

Jeremiah calmly said, "It is the only way. His Majesty is but one man. What is important is that England will still have a ruler when this is all over and done with."

"A ruler who is a tyrant!"

The room erupted into murmurs and arguments, and Cyath did not make a move to stop them.

It quieted down when two more people stood. "I have sworn on penalty of death that I would pledge my service to the Crown. I cannot follow you, Sir Cyath," one said, bleakly.

"Nor I," the second confirmed. "What you suggest is treacherous."

A few more men stood, nodding their agreements.

Cyath slammed his fist down against the wood hard enough to leave a mark. "I proclaim you lot as traitors," he spat. He looked around the room, sizing each man up, feeling sick to his stomach.

Garrison stuck his chest out, stubbornly. "May the blood of innocents be on your hands!" he rumbled, angrily. "You don't know what you are doing!"

"On the contrary, I know exactly what I'm doing," Cyath said. "I am disposing of the threats to our nation. You have chosen your side and in so doing, you have chosen your fate." He held up a hand and the soldiers around the room stepped forward. "You know what to do."

In mere moments, they were rounded up, the lot of them protesting loudly against the harsh treatment. The other officers looked on with wide eyes.

Cyath addressed those who were not under custody with a wave of his hand. "Gentlemen, thank you for your time. We shall meet again. You need not stay to witness the…inevitable."

Nobody moved until Sir Medwin drew his sword. The sound of metal sliding from its sheath caused the officers to move at last and there was a scramble to leave the room before the massacre began.

The soldiers by the door parted to give them way and when the doors closed again, there was a silence so heavy that Cyath was certain it could become suffocating.

He watched as Garrison raised his chin a little higher. "I have made my choice," he declared. "I have made my oath and I will not go back on it."

The few others murmured their agreements, bravely facing what was to come.

Cyath had to hold his breath against a wave of nausea as he met their bold stares. There were so few – too few! Hands clenching around the podium he finally managed to choke out, "All right, gentlemen. Now that we know who the real traitors are and that they will be dealt with accordingly, we can begin our meeting."

**0-0-0-0-0**

James led the way down the steps with Lily and Severus following closely at his heels. A few other students accompanied them, tailing just in case they were followed by any enemies. All of them held their swords out in front of them, warily keeping their eyes out for any surprise attacks.

Lily's hands were sweaty around the hilt to her sword and her heart was pounding so loud in her ears that she was certain the others could hear it.

When they hit the bottom of the steps, they were met with a dimly lit corridor, the lights reflecting their shadows against the wall in odd flickering shapes. Lily unconsciously stepped closer to James' side, and he acknowledged her with a slight tilt of the head and a small, tight smile.

Despite the situation, Severus looked calm and collected, a face that was probably perfected during his time as an Elite. After all, it wouldn't do to have leaders that panicked. It made Lily try to school her expression into a neutral one, but it didn't stop her trembling.

"Do tell me you know where you are going," Severus murmured.

"I've only been to this hold twice," James admitted, checking that the coast was clear before leading the men forward. "I have never been in the main barracks before…there was never a need to set foot here."

They continued on in silence, trekking toward the conference room as they had been instructed to do by Sir Cyath. What they would encounter on the way, they did not know.

Lily did not want to voice her fears aloud, and was somewhat relieved when someone in their group did. "What if they should find that no one is loyal to the Crown? Have we walked into a trap?"

There was no reply to that, proof that everyone was thinking the same thing. James suddenly staggered, his hand coming out to slap against the wall to prevent himself from collapsing to his knees. Lily followed, reaching out to brace his form against her, keeping her sword out of the way so that she wouldn't hurt him accidentally. "Oh, James, I told you that you should have stayed back," she whispered.

"I'm fine," James told her, woodenly as she pressed her palm against his forehead. It was clammy and warm to the touch.

"No, you're not. You're still unwell," Lily insisted. "You need rest."

"It's too late for that," James said.

Lily sighed, "You always do this to yourself. And you lecture _me_ about valor and honor."

Before James could shoot a heated response back, Severus interrupted them in much the same manner as he had earlier. "Now, now. Remember what I told you before: leave the lovers' spats for later."

A few of the men with them chuckled and it caused the two to blush.

Sir Callum asked, "All right, there, Sir James? Or shall we go on ahead?"

Scowling James waved him away. Lily huffed, "You're so stubborn."

Another round of chuckles passed through the group at her scolding.

Despite the fact that it was on his behalf, James couldn't help but savor the sound yet again. In an apology, he leaned his head against Lily's shoulder, his unruly locks tickling the underside of her jaw. He didn't care that his school mates witnessed the intimate gesture. He felt her thumb the strands back.

When the group suddenly tensed and made to surround them, James looked up. Footsteps by the dozen pounded down the hall, and there were shouts and screams.

Armored men poured into view, clearly chasing down uniformed men. From the medals and stripes on their lapels, James knew that they were ranking officers. A few of them looked worse for wear as they tried to outrun their pursuers. "Halt! In the name of His Majesty, you will be brought to justice!"

James pushed himself to his feet. "What's going on?"

But his question went unanswered, most probably because it went unheard. The footsteps increased in both sound and number, the clanking of armor becoming more prominent. Soldiers blocked both sides of the hallway, pinching the students and the army officials in the middle.

"What do you think you're doing?" One man growled, his voice seeming to thunder in his anger. "Sir Cyath himself has - "

"-Sir Cyath has ordered your capture for your treason to the Throne. You made your choice known at the meeting." It was Quentin who responded, causing James to have to turn to focus his attention on the soldier. "You will surrender or we have orders to attack and kill, Sir Jeremiah."

"I will not be herded like some animal," Sir Jeremiah said, and his haughty air reminded James of Malfoy so much that for a moment, their images overlapped in his mind's eye. "We did nothing but choose the fate we saw as best."

"For yourselves," Quetin sounded disgusted. To his soldiers, he ordered, "Apprehend them and round up the troops under their command. Find the others and make sure no one escapes."

The soldiers moved as one, convening upon their quarry with a smooth efficiency. Jeremiah and the handful of commanding officers with him put their hands up in surrender, knowing that they were unarmed and too few in numbers to escape or press an attack.

Lily was just about to re-sheathe her sword when she heard someone scream. She felt James' hand urgently push her back, his feet backpedaling them both a few paces. The soldiers around them also moved back, reacting like one body, without question or falter.

She craned her neck to see what was going on, but James pushed at her again. She was only able to make out a soldier falling before Sir Jeremiah.

"Lady, don't look," James advised, urgently, but the crowd had parted enough for Lily to see blood spreading around the soldier's body and a short sword in the officer's hand. Quentin was shouting something, but all Lily heard was a roaring in her ears.

She had to fight back the roiling of her stomach for fear she would vomit. She was reminded of the violence that had accompanied the infiltration of the academy. Only, this time it was worse because the fighting was taking place between people who were supposed to be allies.

It was madness.

Nothing at this point, she felt, could possibly shock her more.

James pulled at her, trying to shake her out of her shock. He'd seen her react similarly before and wished yet again that he could have spared her the brutality. They could not stand idle, though because the fighting grew in intensity and so he urged her backward as more soldiers poured into the already-crowded hallway.

Jeremiah was quick despite his age. His experience in battle was evident as he cut down soldier after soldier with an ease that was almost disturbing. His eyes had taken on a wild look, but even he could not fend off that many people by himself. His fellow comrades, who had followed his lead, were arrested. Jeremiah was taken down shortly after.

"It's over," James reassured Lily, who had taken to clutching his arm with a death grip. His left arm circled her waist for fear that she would faint. "It's over, now, Lily…don't worry."

A voice from his left spoke, quietly, with an authority that Lily was acutely attuned to, and yet was not expecting.

"Actually, sir, it has only just begun."

Mind reeling, she whirled in her spot to face the speaker. She'd been wrong. Her shock made her knees knock together. "D-dad?"

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**AN**: I can't even begin to express how frustrated I became with this story. My inspiration for it flicks on and off so much that it drives me crazy. I know the wait has driven the majority of you crazy, too. So let's be crazy together and continue the journey if you're ready for it. Here's to hoping for another chapter sooner rather than later!

Leave me your thoughts!

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.


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